


Valentines in Chaldea

by AzureRegulus



Category: Fate/Grand Order, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Valentines, happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-17
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-12 15:27:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 32,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29511798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzureRegulus/pseuds/AzureRegulus
Summary: Valentines is all around. Even in the state humanity is in, Chaldea, their staff, Servants and their four masters do not hesitate to use the day to their fullest. Be it to show their appreciation for deep friendship, trust......or confessing your love to your important other.As one of the female masters celebrates birthday and valentines with the ghost of Tosa, another finds herself protected in her slumber by the queen of Amazons and the invincible hero, holding onto their newfound happiness thanks to her.At the other end of Chaldea, the huntress of Arcadia, after much pushing from Medea, decides to confront her own greek master about her feelings.Both the nervous green clad Archer and the distraught Berserker, fighting the pelt's influence.
Relationships: Achilles | Rider of Red/Penthesilea | Berserker, Atalanta Alter | Berserker/Master, Atalanta | Archer of Red/Master, Okada Izou | Assassin/Master
Kudos: 3





	1. Silent comfort

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Valentines always was seperated by pairs. Yet few of them actually celebrated a birthday on that date as well.
> 
> Skipping through the halls with her greek friend, Vera, a master from Cyperus, carried a box with her for the Assassin feared as a manslayer. The ghost of Tosa and Servant she trusted the most. 
> 
> A palingenesis after all was the ulimate show of trust. To some it was even as much as a marriage.
> 
> And this man needed someone to show that he was appreciated in this world.

### Silent comfort

For once the white corridors of Chaldea felt safe enough to speak about something more intimate. Something that left one of the local masters no rest.

“And she closed in on you, you say?”.

A young woman with long brown hair, soft as melted chocolate, asked. A grecian from Cyperus and the second youngest of the four masters with the youngest being the orange haired Ritsuka.

The man beside her with dark brown hair always trimmed short frowned a bit, answering with an uncomfortable nod. Another greek with roots leading to the birthplace of Iskandar the Conqueror, who by chance became his Rider Servant. And not only he answered him.

Much like the young greek woman, he himself had an unusual array of Servants. One being a woman that was so sought after at the end of her life, she had to resort to footraces to keep them away from her.

And that very woman, his most trusted Servant next to the kingly Rider, had been getting ever closer. Too close for comfort when one thought about the legend her fast feet had printed onto the sands of Greece.

Rubbing his muzzle, he tried to explain what his trusted Berserker and Archer were up to.

“Well…How do I explain this.”, he muttered with a cautious gaze around the corner for a certain red Archer and red Rider.

Even a green haired Rider and short white-haired Berserker would be problematic at this point.

Taking a deep breath when the air was clear, he explained nervously: “We were just sitting near the beach because I needed a break. My eyes were hurting from overwork in front of the pc and Ritsuka’s handwriting.”. The girl snorted at the man’s annoyance to always review the young japanese master’s reports. But it was necessary to prepare her for a time when this all would be over.

He despised how one so young was fighting a war when she was supposed to be outside and enjoy days with the girls. It was one of the many reasons besides preparing her for the life afterwards, that he took over her workload.

But all of a sudden, the man grew silent, carefully thinking how to put it into words what the silver haired lioness did without making people get the wrong impression of her.

“Atalanta closed in and…I think she started sniffing my neck. Not only that, but her tail was raising.”.

The only thing he could think about were a cat’s anatomy. Whenever they were content, a cat’s tail would raise and maybe, maybe, they’d start to purr. The only bit he noticed was that she seemed quite happy. But the other problem was that the fusion with her noble phantasm, the pelt of the calidonian boar, had taken a hold of her. A warning she said, was that there were times where the bestial instincts of the pelt would take over.

And that made a cold shiver go down his spine.

“You don’t think her pelt is-”.

Unable to finish his sentence, he gazed curiously at the woman laughing softly. Inexperienced as he was due to many circumstances, the woman understood his confusion. Though a bit of amusement she allowed herself to have at his cost. After all, she was the one listening to his woes. “Well, let me ease your mind, _file_.”, she answered her friend with a reassuring hand on his shoulder…

…followed by a playful grin he’d never even seen Emiya give him as she tapped his chest with a perfectly polished fingernail.

“Christos, that is a woman in love right there.”.

His face glowed bright red like Iskandar’s cape.

Usually whenever he was faced with it, it was meant as a tease. So, so often had the greek master of Iskandar, Heracles, Medea and Atalanta been at the end of jokes for his good relation with the huntress.

To the point the white-haired Berserker and golden-maned Archer even took over his room.

Yeah, he had become the butt of the jokes and memes. Though at some point he just gave up answering or denying them. That was only a few weeks ago when he went into a simulation to get some piece of mind and he was riddled with questions from a certain french master’s green haired Rider, openly stating without hesitation that he is trying to hook him up with his ‘sister’. It didn’t help that he later met the Servant of the greek woman, her trusted Assassin, who had just undergone a Palangenesis, and stated that there are bets going on who is taking that step.

Most are betting on Atalanta, which was quite a blow to the gut.

“And you are sure about that, Vera?”.

“Of course.”, she swiftly retorted. For once her eyes were piercing, freezing the man in his tracks. He felt like he was staring right at Izo when he was about to kill.

“People knew that from the get-go. Heck, Iskandar noticed the minute you spoke of her, that it could end this way. Sherlock figured that she’d probably feel very comfortable with you. Penthesilea tells you what followers of Artemis prefer for a damn good reason. And don’t get me started on Achilles. He has met Atalanta before, heard about her as a child. He saw and assured pretty much the entirety of Chaldea that you and Atalanta are pretty much a pair. Also, and that is the most important one, so listen well.”.

And that was the hardest blow he ever took in his life. The nail tapping his chest seemed like a sharp knife somehow, plunging right into his heart.

“Christos…she is sleeping in your room. Both Berserker and Archer. Every.single.day.”.

Ever since France happened, Vera knew that the Berserker really never left the greek’s side, even occupying his bed. The saint of Orleans was summoned to her side one day and she never stopped cackling the moment she saw Atalanta with her master.

Though in the huntress’ own words, Christos always slept on the couch, despite herself always saying that there was no need to, to the point she’d even try to sneak into his bed while he slept.

Though the next morning, he was, again, on the couch.

One of the many reasons for his stiff neck and back.

“Okay, okay! _Stamata!_ I got it! Geez…”, Christos raised his arm in defeat. The last thing he could do was win a fight with a woman like her who had the experience. “Well, you wanted her, you got her.”, Vera laughs, resuming to walk ahead. “Now you have to take responsibility, for both of them. Might make an appointment with Artemis if I were you, hahaha! Shall I start designing the invitation?”. “You don’t even know if she’d do a large wedding, Vera.”, Christos let out a sullen groan.

Meeting the goddess of the hunt herself, Servant of the sole french master in Chaldea and one he didn’t really look forward to. A drunk Penthesilea, long after her battle with Achilles to end their feud, complained how Artemis bothered her with not letting someone who is as infatuated with her as the child of Thetis go.

What she’d tell Christos, the master of the huntress of Arcadia, he couldn’t even imagine.

Silently the two masters walked. But the longer she heard her footsteps, the more concerned she got. “Hey, Christos?”, Vera pulled him out of his self-induced trance. “Be honest. You do feel like that for Atalanta, right?”.

Never before had he been faced with the question. If anything, he was prepared for Medea to come out and ask.

“Honestly…I…”, he tried his best to answer, brushing over his short hair.

Yet he couldn’t form any words. His own feelings for the huntress were a mess at this point, a snare around his neck.

Vera, easily disclosing his nervousness over the situation, thought of how to make him approach the huntress of Arcadia. She had already been waiting for her master, longer than he himself might think. And the time he needed to answer, was proof that himself thought much of his own Servant.

“You are thinking too long.”.

A slow groan from his pursed lips whispered to Vera of his struggle to sort out what was running through his mind. “Say, how do you feel when you see Atalanta?”, she asked, earning a curious look. “Considering all that happened between the two of you; Medea killing her in battle; Summoning her and letting her fight against Jalter on her own. When you look at Atalanta every day, how do you find her in front of you and what do you wish? Think about that for a second.”.

“W-Well…”, he barely knew where to begin.

The mere imagination of the huntress beaming when she walked the halls with Medea was a sight.

Even when she was with him, that view always put his heart at ease. “I like to see her smile.”, he remembered every morning up until this point. No matter where he ended up. Be it on the couch in his own room or his office. Every morning in the canteen when he got himself breakfast. She always greeted him, sat at his side. Even silence was comforting when she was around and her long eyelashes fluttered in front of him.

A smile slowly spread on his lips, soft and adoring.

Vera recognized it no matter where he was. That was the look Christos always had when he gazed at Atalanta walking beside him or he had to lend his lap for her to sleep on when she was plagued by headaches, scratching her lion ears very gently or combing the long white strands of hair.

“Whenever she is around and is at ease, not thinking about the past or anything…Just knowing she is happy…”, he whispered barely audible to any ears but his friend’s. “Then I don’t need anything else.”.

“Then I think you have the answer already.”, a soft laugh escaped Vera’s lips. “I don’t think you have her oath to worry about. It is an oath of virginity and not an oath that she has to stay lonely or anything. You are by her side, supportive of her and she is grateful for that. I am pretty sure if you aren’t taking the first step, she is going to. Especially now that we have valentines.”.

A small sigh followed utter defeat. With a lowered head, Christos accepted the new circumstances, pondering if he should talk with Atalanta about that. Vera wouldn’t lie, that much he knew. He had faith in his friend to always be honest.

Though…

“Come to think of it…”.

Shifting his gaze, Christos gazed at the big box his greek friend was carrying. “Want me to carry that for you?”. “Pff. _Efcharisto, file._ But I am fine. I can carry that thing without a problem.”, she assured. But he noticed that she was very, very careful with carrying it. “What even is inside there? Chocolate for your Servants?”, he asked nervously. “I know you have a lot under your command, but isn’t that a bit much?”.

And the moment he did, a wide, excited smile shined right at him.

“It is somebody’s birthday today.”.

“Wait, really?!”.

Pointing a finger straight ahead, a tired looking Assassin came right around the corner. Messy black hair held in a ponytail and the only visible tired orange eye staring into the distance. Probably another night of drinking.

He’d notice that guy no matter where he stood.

“Izo…Wait, it is Izo’s birthday?!”.

“Exactly.”.

Silently Christos’ gaze switched between the giant box and the tired Assassin leaning against the wall. Giving a bright grin, it was time for payback. “You want me to write a little love story for the two of you?”. “Sure, go right ahead. For that, I’ll pay you back with a picture of yourself in a suit and your dear _gynaikes_ in wedding dresses.”, she fired back like a pistol. “And you will have to look at it every single day, because I’ll make your sweet Berserker ask you to hang it on a wall.”.

He saw opportunity and fell right into the trap, walking out with it with his blood rushing to his cheeks again. Calling them his wives felt as if the bullet shot a hole straight through his body. Maybe it was a skill inherited by her own Servant, who had the same name as his red Archer.

“Ah! Christos, there you are!”.

Vera snorted the moment she recognized the cheerful tune belonging to the tall and lean build Rider of Red, trusted Servant of the french master, Mae.

And holding two large balls of spiked chocolate in his hands.

Both masters gasped in shock. The spikes seemed sharp enough to even hurt and be used as a weapon. But he himself had the biggest grin on his face. “Ey…”, Vera slowly mustered up the courage to ask. “Maemae cannot have made those…are these from-“. “Penthesilea, yes.”, he beamed with such innocence, it was blinding. “I am trying to find her right now. Have you seen Pen?”.

How that was the same guy from the Illiad was a wonder at times.

Both shook their head.

But before he could blind them anymore or even sulk, if that was even possible, the Rider gazed at the one he called out before with the brightest grin. “Sis told me that if I stumbled upon you, I should tell you to go to the simulation. I mean Archer.”. “Stumble upon me?”, Christos groaned. “If I didn’t know any better, you are stalking me to make sure I dare not lose interest in Atalanta.”.

“I hope you don’t. Do you want to make sis cry?”.

“Don’t…”, Christos growled a warning, putting his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. But it was too late already. The image of Atalanta crying was seared into his mind. The master’s clenched his eyes hard, telling himself she was fine.

But the image persisted.

“Tch. Fuck. Now I have to think about France again. Efcharisto, malaka. Now I cannot get a crying Atalanta out of my head.”. The hero of the Iliad merely shrugged the master’s gratitude, full of sarcasm, off his shoulders. “Hahaha! Sweet how you worry over seeing her tears. Sis is one of the strongest women I know, only second to Penthesilea. She won’t cry that easily. Well, maybe tears of joy if you finally propose.”, his loud laughter echoed, only irritating the master more as it rang in his ears.

“But seriously, get going. You shouldn’t keep your woman waiting. If you think you cannot make it, I can get you there.”.

“No, it’s fine. I can see now why Iskandar likes you so much. He took too much after you, aside from his heart for conquest.”, Christos groaned, tiredly waving his hand at Vera holding back really hard to not drop the box.

Once he was out of hearing range, Achilles stared at the short greek woman. “Care to enlighten me?”. “Atalanta Alter has gotten a bit aggressive over the last week. I don’t think it is going to take much longer.”, Vera assured the Rider.

And all of a sudden, the look on his face changed. Reassured, Achilles thankfully nodded to the master. “Then I can stop worrying about her, can I?”.

She shakes her head with a playful grin. “You never had anything to worry to begin with. Medea is here and always keeping an eye out for the two.”, Vera assured once more. “What happened in that war happened. She has forgiven you. If anything, you should focus on your own woman. We are all expecting a wedding announcement from the queen herself, you know.”.

“W-Well…”.

Nervously the Rider sweated as the short master’s gaze grew intense once more.

“Achileeeeeees…!”.

“I-I have to get going. _Ta leme!”._

“Ey, Achilles! _Perimene_! Malaka…”.

Any attempt to halt the Rider was effortless once he gets into full gear. Even with two massive chocolate morning stars, he was incredibly fast on his feet.

“Seriously…”, she groaned with a roll of her eyes. “It is another thing with Christos and Atalanta. One still has to learn while the other is just becoming a woman in that manner. This guy is carrying Penthesilea sitting on his shoulders every single day, and he cannot seal the deal. What am I? A relationship therapist?”.

“What are you mumbling about, master?”.

If she wasn’t used to a certain ninja always hiding in her room at times, Vera would have jumped out of her skin the moment her bodyguard appeared behind her.

“Nothing. I was just pondering if I became an advisor or a therapist at some point.”, she answered the voice behind her back. Barely having seen the orange scarf vanish around a corner, Izo’s eyes narrowed. “Huh. I see. I wouldn’t do anything about that, if I were you. I am certain Penthesilea’s goddess is going to kick his ass sooner or later.”.

“Probably.”.

After the blunt answer, spinning playfully on her heel, she grinned up at her Servant. “Good thing I found you though. This is for you.”, she offered the box without a hint of hesitation.

Carefully his hands grasped the box. Even more carefully he opened to reveal what was inside.

Not your everyday valentines’ chocolate was hiding inside.

No. An entire chocolate cake greeted his wide orange eye, with white frosting resembling a sword crossed over its scabbard.

“Happy Valentine’s day AND happy birthday, Izo!”.

His adam apple bobbed a bit as he tried to keep his composure. “Uh…Th-Thanks. I am surprised you even know my birthday.”, Izo stuttered his gratitude. Vera proudly crossed her arms with a playful wink. “Hey, I do my research on my Servants. And considering I gave you a grail, we are as good as married, don’t you think?”. She knew how to press his buttons and there was the slightest hint of a blush as he looked away and cleared his throat. “You mentioned that other thing. Valentines. What is that?”.

“Essentially a festival where people show their appreciation for those they care about. Others even use it as a day to open their hearts to another.”, Vera explained, swift and short, shifting her gaze behind the Assassin. “At least I am hoping that a few certain people use that day. Especially one having two huntresses.”.

“Festival, huh…”.

A cold shower went down her spine. ‘Oh, ghamoto. I should have explained that differently.’.

If Izo was notorious for one thing, then that he was a huge fan of alcohol. One might even expect him to sleep with a bottle at night. The only time he was not in a drinking mood for a while, was the night Penthesilea and Atalanta got drunk. Izo’s hand was nearly gone after he tried to remove the bottle of ouzo from the huntress and amazon queen, so neither Christos or Achilles would think it was his fault.

One walked away with the drunk queen in his arms while Iskandar led the swaying huntress to their master. And Izo…

…well, he quivered behind Vera’s chair for a while, wondering how such beasts can hide behind a a pretty woman’s face.

But that only lasted for a few days until he was back to normal.

The lightbulb over his head alight, Izo’s grin brightened at the opportunity.

Her room was the battlefield. Cake and alcohol the opponent.

Good thing is that Vera has her experience with alcohol and how to drink responsibly.

Izo however…

“And then I told Katsu sensei that if it wasn’t for my joy in killing, his head would be rolling down the hill *hic*”.

He was just prattling on like a waterfall. Cup after cup vanished. Tale after tale flowed out of the cavern that was sealed off for so long and soon the first bottle of sake was gone. Vera didn’t even know where he put all that stuff. But he enjoyed the cake together with the alcohol, so she made a mental note to thank Archer Emiya for his efforts.

But even so, she found joy in it.

Izo’s smile was warm and genuine. Untainted by bloodlust and the urge to slice the next person to pieces. Not pulled by the strings that restrained him, he could drink and laugh to his heart’s content at the side of the person he cherished the most.

Never did Vera forget it…

_“Why?”._

_“Why what?”._

_“…Why…are you giving me a grail?”._

Her soft lips pulled into a smile as he Izo laughed again, Vera watched him raise his glass and nearly fall from his chair.

_“I cannot do anything. I can only kill. You have all those bigshots like the detective. Gods like that girl with pigtails. And…even Ryouma…”._

_“And how often have you kept my back safe from a knife rammed into my back?”._

_“…”._

_“No matter where we fought, you were always close by. The only one I can compare this to…is Atalanta protecting Christos out on the battlefield. Even those you mentioned can do so much, you are perfect in your own way. I trust you with my life, as he does her, Izo. That is why…”._

She was thankful how the only other greek master in Chaldea pulled the Assassin together with his new responsibilities. Izo embraced his new duty bestowed to him not only by his contractor, but all the Servants under her command. Ryouma and Oryou, despite being close to her, took a step back without any qualms.

He said himself that as long as Izo was around, she would never be in any kind of danger, with confidence bright as the sun.

No matter what happened, he still trusted in Izo, despite how much they drifted apart.

Hours passed with joy and alcohol.

Pulling a blanket over the passed-out Assassin laying on the couch and cuddling a nearby pillow, Vera wiped the sweat from her forehead away. It was tough to get him from the floor onto something more comfortable. Thankfully the ventilation systems of Chaldea were top notch and the alcohol stench was barely noticeable.

Taking out her smartphone, she silently took a photo of her Assassin bodyguard.

“Here lies one of the Bakumatsu’s four great man-slayers, wasted on the couch.”, she laughed softly, though with a look at the blanket. “It might be a bit thin though. Best to get another blanket from his room.”.

For a few seconds, she watched him sleep. Attentive as Vera was, she caught how his hairband was getting loose. Very carefully, listening to his soft sounds, she fixed it for him, before walking outside to get another blanket.

“…Why…Takechi-sensei…”.

The sun’s rays seemed to fade almost immediately as the black clouds of a time gone by returned. Vera approached the slumbering Assassin’s face once more.

Deep pain made him scowl as a nightmare plagued him.

“Why am I the only one you kicked out?”.

He was talking in his sleep of the time that he lost what he cherished the most. Yet Vera already was well aware. Taking a small chair, fair hands combed through the black hair to soothe nightmare.

“Ryouma…why…Why’d you leave me behind…”.

A heavy, pained breath escaped Izo’s chest. It seemed as if he was nearly about to cry and if looked closely, the softest glint could be seen.

“Why…?”.

Sometimes when masters summon Servants, they are not fully prepared for the burdens they would shoulder. As much as themselves, they carry a wish with them they want to see come to fruition.

The desire for conquest.

Hatred towards one who insulted you.

Repentance for a deed never wished to have been committed.

Unconditional love a woman never experienced.

And hope to numb the horrible feeling of abandonment.

Mae carried Penthesilea’s hatred for Achilles, together with his desire to repent and his deep sorrow because she couldn’t understand before. If not for her efforts, the two would not be the power couple they were right now. A terror on the battlefield.

Christos was plagued by nightmares of Atalanta’s past, the cries of the baby in the woods of Arcadia as the wolves closed in on the basket. Sometimes he’d wake up on the couch to hear Atalanta sobbing in her sleep and clenching the pillow. Soundless he’d sit beside her, stroking her hair. And he was sure to suffer it often with his bond to both Archer and Berserker.

And Vera…

“It’s okay, Izo…”.

She could understand why he behaved the way he does. When he thinks that he is only good for one thing and otherwise useless, she saw herself in the man-slayer more often she cared to admit. But even with how often she heard him whimper in his slumber, her heart would ache whenever he was plagued by it.

Izo had qualities he himself didn’t know he had. He lifted the mood without even noticing it. But Izo never thought about it, only fixated on his mastery of killing.

The only thing she could do right now, is caress his messy hair and hoping it soothed his pain.

His facial expressions slowly softened again, pressing the pillow close once more. Slowly the sobs vanished with delicate breaths. Vera couldn’t help to smile at the idiot she had drawn. A fool, thinking he was worth nothing, yet much more than he himself might believe.

The very moment her hand left to get another blanket, the corner of his lips twitched. With a soft gasp, Vera waited for a smile to form.

…

Weeeelll…

“Bleeeeaaagghhh!!!”.

In a matter of seconds, it seemed like an entire waterfall came out of Assassin.

Adoration vanished for utter disgust as it was spread on the ground, nearly hitting her shoes. It was a miracle couch, table and pillow were left untainted.

“ _GHAMOTO_ , IZO!!!”.

“I…I…am sorry…master…”.

Even passed out the Servant apologized to his infuriated master quickly shoving the table aside. “Oh, god its everywhere!”, she groaned and dug her nails into her head. “Ahhh! You got to be kidding

Hearing a knock on the door, Vera’s heart stopped.

“Vera? _Ola kala_?”.

The worried town of Christos in front of her door, she only slightly opened the door to show she was alright. But the look of disgust on her face and the horrible smell creeping inside his nose, made him nearly vomit himself. “Oh, you got to be kidding me.”, he gagged. “It smells even worse than usual when he is drunk…”.

“Can you get me a bucket of water and a mop, _parakalo_?”, she kindly asked, watching as he ran off to get their weapons ready.

That would be a horrible battle to fight.

It took another few hours to get it all cleaned up, but the smell didn’t vanish. As much as she tried to sleep, in that room, Vera would be restless.

Thankfully she could now take Archer Atalanta’s room, as the huntress and her Berserker side officially lived with their master now. She would have liked to ask how, but was ultimately too tired.

The morning after, an exhausted Vera dragged her feet to her office. Farming reports still needed to be written and there was no way around it. So, unfortunately, the bed had to wait.

“Hey, Master.”.

As if she had felt it in her bones, her Assassin was right around the corner, bright as the sun and early to boot for once. “Thanks for hanging out with me yesterday. I haven’t had booze that good in a long time. That Valentine’s Day thing wasn’t half bad!”.

Vera tiredly blinked with a half-hearted smile. ‘He’s completely forgotten what happened.’, she silently fumed how long her and Christos cleaned the vomit away. She still felt a bit remorse that he helped her.

Brushing the look aside, Izo pulled something out of his jacket. “Ah, don’t be like that. Here. A little something to thank you for yesterday.”, he tried to cast a smile on her lips.

Out of it came a beautiful brown scarf in the same form as his own. An elegant patterned adorned it.

As he handed it to his startled master, Izo shyly gazed away at the wonderous look. “I don’t know too much about these kind of things. It might not be much of a gift, but you’re free to use it if you like it.”, he muttered under his own scarf. Even if he tried to appear callous, he still wished to thank Vera for her kindness.

Something he was rarely shown in his former life.

He couldn’t even remember anyone thinking about his birthday.

“I’ll wear it right now!”.

With a bright blush, he watched how his master wrapped it around her. With the dark shirt she wore today, it was a perfect match with her Assassin.

Not hiding his smile in front of his master, Izo laughed out into the world.

“Today’s gonna be a good day. No…make that a great day!”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Izo...where do I begin with him?
> 
> Thanks to Yakuza Isshin I first came into contact with the ghost of Tosa. Once I actually began FGO, I had begun to grow fond for him. What Atalanta, both of them, are to me, Izo is to my friend Vera. Very recently she completely grailed him, maxed out his skills. 
> 
> Considering how much work goes into such a thing, you could say they are pretty much married XD
> 
> His dialogue as well shares much of his burden while he is sleeping. How the betrayals he suffered scarred him. It is no wonder he thinks that killing is the only thing he is good at.
> 
> Take good care of him!


	2. A war goddess' love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Penthesilea didn't know how much time had passed since that moment.
> 
> One she was summoned, she made it clear she would kill him. But while others feared her Berserker state, speaking his name didn't throw her into a fit, not as much as when you called her beautiful. 
> 
> Her french master knew, accepting that there would be conflicting. She could punch out his teeth, break his legs in. But was pleaded not to kill him. Not in Chaldea's current state. The queen had accepted and over months, bonded with her master, till the day of his arrival came.
> 
> It was all so strange. 
> 
> Even with the endless image training she had...
> 
> ...it was a wonder she enjoyed having his head on her lap and his lips on her abs, fingers wandering over the meadow that was his green hair.

What a magnificent night it had been.

Sometimes when Penthesilea sat at the bedside and ran her hands through his spiky hair of the freshest, warmest grass green, the queen couldn’t help but wonder how that all would have felt.

The kisses she was bestowed with, adoring this very goddess of war that belonged to him alone.

Every time his fingers traced her toned midsection, marveling at her body.

How it felt when his strong arms wrapped around her small frame as they were connected, protecting her from anger she discarded long ago.

Would she have felt the same kind of bliss?

Would it have been different if she had never carried that hatred to begin with?

How would it have been if the queen made him her king?

What would their children have looked like?

Reflections of a possible life together in the land of the amazons flashed in her eyes.

One thing Penthesilea never doubted, was that their children would have been strong. Strong, wise and beautiful. Their lives connected to a single point. A goddess of war, whose fire burned harsher than the sun and the wisdom the swift hero was bestowed upon during his childhood by the sage.

“Hmm…Penthesilea…”.

A soft smile graced the queen’s lips as she gazed at her lap, taken by who could have become the king of amazons at her side. An amused giggle rained down on him as his face and breath kissed her abs. “Well, well…”, she observed. “No matter where and when. Once a man falls in love, they return to being giant babies yearning a woman’s touch. Not even the hero that killed me is spared of that curse, is he? I should hate that you showed such weakness right now…but I can’t. Not anymore.”.

The sound of her dreaded, blood-soaked morning stars hitting his shield had felt like the chiming of bells, announcing one of the grandest battles to date to be held on the dusty war zone that were the front gates of Troy.

Violent and powerful, the daughter of Ares felt right at home with a title like goddess of war, throwing up more battle dust as she had tried to smite Thetis’ son to bits.

Yet it all ended with her own loss.

Carefully she traced the scar that was normally hidden by her top. Close to her heart, where his spear had pierced her.

“I cursed you…”.

Despite the dark words used for what she hoped would have followed him into hell, Penthesilea’s tone was soft, adoring and protective. “I cursed you for calling me beautiful. I cursed the tip of your spear to one day strike down a loved one.”, she reminded herself of what she was told. “And that you did.”.

Her curse had come to fruition, twice.

In a great holy grail war, his fist was burrowed in the chest of one he lovingly called teacher and father. In a desperate battle, the two struck at each other and even while being the victor, it felt hollow. Just like Zeus and Chronos, he had killed whom he considered his own flesh and blood.

And that wouldn’t be his last sin.

A beast was out to destroy the last light of the great holy grail war. The one Penthesilea’ called her lover ended Atalanta’s rampage, the very Servant of the sole greek master of Chaldea. The one he called his sister, having had heard stories of his father, Peleus, who had been her comrade.

Once they talked, so it was revealed, he could barely hold back his tears when he saw his idol become consumed by hatred and regret for having been unable to protect the children that were consumed by Jeanne’s purifying light. Yet she bore no ill will despite her wish having been shattered.

She couldn’t understand why. She couldn’t even see that the children had given up themselves.

But it wasn’t only seeing his role model becoming a monster that broke him.

She had become Penthesilea.

When he chased her down among the crumbling remains of the hanging gardens of babylon, the one who shot arrows at him were not the lime green eyes of the huntress, but the burning golden ones of the queen surrounded by a creeping darkness.

It was the goddess of war he fought. The very goddess with the waist cape, red as blood, he shamed before her death.

The only moment Atalanta returned was when the rage had vanished. Yet he felt his regrets only amass.

Because he felt that he killed his sister and his beloved queen once more.

The look he got on his face when he was summoned, Penthesilea would never forget. Grandly and with pride swelling in his chest, he had greeted her master by giving his identity freely.

Achilles. The son of Thetis and Peleus.

That very same man whose hair she combing right this moment.

Her master was stupefied, excited and terrified. Long had she yearned to meet the hero of the trojan war. It should have the biggest moment of her life as a master.

But she held a promise inside her chest. A promise of redemption to the queen at her side.

The very moment his eyes travelled towards the other…

…his spear fell out of his hand, shattering the fragile silence.

Horror, happiness and confusion mixed inside his eyes falling upon her cold, indifferent expression she tried hard to keep.

_“P-Penthesilea…”._

Breathless he spoke her name, swimming in the pool of his memories that began to stir. Their french master had gazed at Penthesilea’s hands covered in her own blood.

The mere sight of the man was enough to make the queen vomit and hearing him call her name in such an adoring manner was sickening to the core. It took all of her willpower to remember her promise to what she called her french amazon of a master. Hurting herself, digging her nails into her palm, was necessary to keep her explosive temper in check.

And she endured.

Penthesilea held on for so long, trusting her master’s promise. With her heart and soul she believed that her fight would happen. To restore her honor in front of the face of the world.

It had come around that Achilles refused to fight her. A good portion of overconfidence, mixed with overwhelming regret. Fear of him being himself adoring her beauty once more in the midst of battle, only shaming her more.

It isn’t what he wanted.

After all, he was in love. He was still in love.

When Penthesilea had lost all hope, she overheard it.

_“You…are refusing to fight her?”._

_“Master…please understand. I respect Penthesilea. I-“._

_“Then why do you not take responsibility?”._

_“I am, in my own way. Even if she hates me for the rest of my life, as long as I can keep looking at her from afar, she can hate me any day of the week. That is how-“._

_“YOU DAMN COWARD!!!”._

Once more, Penthesilea had felt just how closely connected she was to her master. Not only in height, but in temper as well. Carefully gazing inside the room, she found the great hero even having fallen to the ground. Not because he was hit or anything.

It was pure shock by how much his master just resembled the woman he loved.

_“You say that she can be angry for as long as she wants as long as you can see her pretty face? Is that it?! That is not accepting the consequences. You are running away from it!”._

_“M-Master…But-“._

_“NO BUTS, ACHILLES! You have no idea what you have done to her. She was broken and it took me ages to repair what was the queen of the amazons. I…I love Penthesilea so much. Do you think I like seeing her cry?”._

_“?!”._

_“Yes, you heard me right, malaka!”._

Penthesilea had to keep her breath still. Part of her wanted to laugh because her master had cursed the hero in the vilest manner possible, probably without knowing what it meant. She blamed it on the two other greek masters of Chaldea when they lost their cool.

The other just wanted to cry right now, holding back the tears. Penthesilea was her Servant. She was supposed to be her sword and shield. Yet she was the one fighting for the queen’s honor and redemption, making even the hero quiver underneath realities’ heavy weight.

_“She cried one day, telling me how that word ached. I never saw Penthesilea cry! Do you think I like that? Do you think I like hearing her roar your name whenever she fights? You…I heard so much about you. I can understand you. What went through your head that day. But be aware, that it was Penthesilea who appeared in front of me. She responded when I needed her the most. I love her so much and I will not tolerate you hurting her anymore! I want to see her smile, no matter whom she sees. I want to see her smile the way Atalanta does. If you could fight Christos’ Servant without holding back in that war, then there is no reason for you to fix what you did wrong right here now! And if you cannot…”._

That was one of the few times were Achilles felt her master’s iron will. The tip of a spear was nothing in comparison to how she just cut his tongue out.

“Y _ou do not deserve your title. What are you, Achilles? A hero, or a coward? If you are the latter…then I can only see you staying here in Chaldea…as much as I dislike that thought. But I will not put Penthesilea through more pain of merely looking at you.”._

_“…Then…”._

It was like a dream. Many tales told of his stubbornness towards leaders. Agamemnon was the cause for Achilles to have lost Patroclus. Bowing his head was nothing he would do.

Yet, right then and there, Penthesilea and her master had gasped sharply as the Rider of Red respectfully went on his knees. His master was direct when she needed to be. Butting heads with her was a death sentence.

And her word ripped open his chest and stabbed right into his heart, aiming right at his regret.

_“Master, tell me. What should I do to solve this? What can I do…to make Penthesilea finally smile?”._

It had finally happened.

Across from her, he stood, wielding the same spear that pierced her body and the same armor her cold, blood coated fingers had wandered across before reaching for his face and painting his cheek in her life and curse.

He lost the spear early by a swift, elegant kick he didn’t see coming from the Berserker. But thanks to Chiron’s training, she also got her swords removed by swift, precise strikes of his palm.

As blood sprayed from their lips with each heavy punch, bones aching and lips covered in cuts, the brawl soon came to an end with a result the hero didn’t predict.

Her fiery rage under control, she fainted herself rushing in blindly with a violent roar. He fell for it, expecting her Berserker rage to cloud her mind and his straight fist brushed her cheek.

Clenched tightly, her own smashed right into his face and sent him right into the ground beneath her with force enough to shatter the earth.

It was finally over.

As the rules of the battle said, his back on the ground, he had lost. His pride had been his undoing as the queen of amazons sat breathless on top of him, tired but victorious.

Penthesilea had won. Unlike what all those stories said, she was the stronger one and proved her strength that day. Disbelief edged on her blood covered face, she relished in the achievement.

And yet…

…he had began to chuckle.

Weak and out of breath, Penthesilea had gritted her teeth.

_“What…is so funny, Achilles?!”._

_“Hahaha…I…lost…”._

She never forgot how their blood painted the ground beneath them like a blossoming flower. With harsh breaths, she had tilted her head in confusion.

_“You…lost, malaka. And you are laughing about it? Did you hold back, you bastard?!”._

_“Nope. I, ack, fought with all I could. But your punches are brutal! Heh…and here I thought what I received from sis and Chiron hurt. I’d say, you are packing a harder punch than even back in the days in Troy. I guess if things had been different, I would have lost the battle in the trojan war as well.”._

Nothing but acceptance fueled him at this point. The weight he had dragged along all this time were gone.

_“That means, I can say it now, right?”._

Even in his deep slumber right now, Penthesilea could feel how his lips tenderly kissed her abdomen. His breath sharing the warmth she gave him every day, adoring and thanking her for giving him a chance, the queen of amazons continued to stare the mirror of memories, hearing his confession.

_“Yes, you are beautiful.”._

_“You…dare still?! How dare you, Achi-”._

_“How are you so strong, Penthesilea?”._

His struggled words cleanly cut through her.

_“…Huh?!”._

_“All those things I never got to say, I can do so right now, just as sis advised me to.”._

_“Atalanta? Advise?”._

_“Penthesilea…”._

His barely open eyes had flickered with love for the queen, ignoring the pain in his body.

But a few tears had been forming within them. Embarrassing, but necessary, he had taken a deep breath to elaborate.

_“You are incredible, Penthesilea. When I saw you, you were ferocious like a lion with a will stronger than diamond. No matter who it was, you flung them into the air with the power of a raging bull before sending them into the ground like a falling star shattering and ruining the earth...”._

_“You…were…”._

_“It was your strength I found beautiful, Penthesilea…I always did. You were and still are a goddess. And…”._

Normally disgusted by weakness, Penthesilea had choked the moment she thought to have seen water run down his cheek. But it wasn’t from the ocean hitting the cliff and neither simulated rain.

“S _tupid as I was…I fell for you. For that very strength. I’d dare say it was the first and only time I really fell in love, but…I was too late…”._

That was when, hidden from all eyes aside from their master and the queen, the former Rider of Red’s eyes grew wet. The strength he held for so long slowly withered as his heart did that fateful day.

He regretted his fist that burrowed into whom he considered his father, repeating an endless cycle.

He punished himself for driving the spear into his childhood hero, one he called sister whom he wished to meet ever since he was but a child and present her flowers.

But nothing came even close to what he felt when not a breath escaped Patroclus’ cold corpse. That is what he had thought that horrible day when ashes were put into an urn, waiting for his own.

Though, he hadn’t thought that an enemy would steal his heart. The same queen that had breathlessly sat on his chest. Once her helmet was off…

…he knew he just killed a person he loved. A person he could love for only mere seconds before his own hands sent her into Thanatos’ clutches to take her to Hades. The pain he felt that moment could never be compared to anything else.

Making him even consider of killing himself.

Penthesilea couldn’t believe how she saw his strength waning, gazing into her own reflection in his warm gaze slowly distorting.

_“That…I wished to tell your for so long…I wanted to fix the wrong I wrought. When that bastard removed your eyes and threw your corpse into a river, I broke his damn neck and jumped into the water after you. The least you deserved was burial…and I cried like a helpless child. You were already gone! I wanted to tell you that I adored your power over your looks. But I couldn’t help ask myself how a woman like you, someone who’d make Aphrodite herself feel like a fading star, be so powerful? But…I couldn’t undo what had happened…You…were so far gone that my words could never hope to reach you!”._

Silently she had stared in shock at the Rider fighting his tears with a breezy, relieved smile. Her arms had lost all feeling to strangle him and that fire that had burned through the darkness was…

…gone.

_“I am sorry for what I did to you. Truly, sighnomi, Penthesilea. And…congratulations. I accept this defeat. And if you so wish…”._

Every word had been said. All Achilles every wanted to say, before he closed his eyes.

“… _you can now take my head…Show it with pride to everyone in Chaldea…”._

That was when Penthesilea’s strength returned.

Realization that she won had washed over her once more, renewing her will and flame, turning into an blazing inferno.

Their master reached out, a command seal glowing to restrict the Berserker queen. But the look in Achilles’ eyes as he shook his head were a plight to let Penthesilea do what she deserved to centuries ago.

Pulled up by his chestplate with blood coated fingers, the hero closed his eyes, ready to feel the pain he deserved for all he had done wrong.

Ruining Atalanta’s wish, killing Chiron and breaking Penthesilea completely to the point she was a wandering calamity.

At least this time, he could go with a smile on his face and light heart. That is what he expected.

Her hands had a firm grasp on his head, feeling as if she wanted to crush his skull paired with the burning gaze she always had.

Ragged breaths came closer, burning his skin.

And, when he thought it was all over now…

…his eyes had snapped open to Penthesilea pressing her lips against his.

Long and thorough, in front of their startled master, the queen stole Achilles’ breath, mind and heart as she tasted his blood still running down their connected mouths.

She didn’t know why. It was all an enigma.

She hated him, but why did she want to kiss him so badly?

What was the reason her heart had suddenly skipped beats when he confessed with tears of regret running down his handsome face?

It had barely taken a second when she processed once more all he said. All this time, he was in love with her power and in awe of her beauty that wrapped around it, giving it a form so beautiful only he could fall in love with all of it. And she cursed him for something she couldn’t comprehend. Though it was his own fault.

He loved what she loved. Strength.

Beauty to him weren’t her looks, not alone. Everything she had shined so brightly, that he couldn’t help himself.

The moment she had pulled away to take a deep breath…

_“Then from this moment on, you are mine.”._

_“Huh?!”_

Like a proud lion standing on top of her throne, she had gazed down at the one she chose as her mate.

_“That is what you wanted, right? To be at my side for eternity. Then from this moment on, I shackle you towards this very goddess of war.”._

_“…Penthesilea…!”._

_“But let me remind you of one thing.”._

Forehead pressed against his, his adam apple bobbed at her dangerous grin. Her fangs were sharp and as white as the moon. So dangerous that he couldn’t help imagine them biting out his throat.

_“My other goddess is lady Artemis, the goddess of the hunt and virginity. And she is protective of her daughters. If you dare be disloyal to me, Achilles…I will break every bone in your body and leave what pitiful heap of remorse is left in front of lady Artemis to deal with. There is no backing away now. Are we clear?”._

Despite what had happened at that moment, she felt blinded by the way he smiled. It was like the harsh sun, yet as cool as the water she loved to dip her feet in. It was comforting.

Loving.

And that smile never left her side ever again.

Now, having returned from her dip into the lake of memories and dressed herself in her usual attire, Penthesilea gave a silent, adoring gaze at her lover, hugging her pillow in his slumber. “Tsk. Normally I should be disgusted at this kind of behavior from you, Achilles.”, she laughed. “Yet I cannot help this feeling to find it adorable.”.

Leaving him to Morpheus, not without a small peck to his temple he answered with a giddy smile, she quietly walked the empty white halls of Chaldea. Today was after all a special day.

It was Valentines.

Since there were way too many Servants to count, Chaldea had made it a rule to expand Valentines to two days, so people would have time to exchange their presents.

It was strange to think the queen of Amazons would make chocolate for anyone. But this was an exception. That is why, as fast and quietly as possible, she wanted to prepare something for them.

Something for Achilles, yes…

…but also for her beloved french amazon.

Her very master, whom she viewed as some would Jeanne’d Arc.

Mae.

Not only were their heights nearly identical, but the queen’s master had a temper that could rival her own when tempted. The person who got on her bad side would feel that forever. Penthesilea would always observe with the greatest of grins and fondest of looks how she would make the person angering her master feel like a maggot.

And never would she forget how she made the hero of the trojan war quiver.

No one would get close to Mae. Not while there was still life and fire breathing in the queen’s chest and they valued their own.

Across the corner, she found two familiar faces vanishing behind the corner ahead.

Two other of the four masters and the only greeks here in Chaldea.

The master of one of the Bakumatsu’s four great man-slayers, Izo Okada, as well as the master detective, Sherlock Holmes. A beautiful young woman with long brown hair, hailing from the greek parts of Cyperus. Vera.

The other, a man middle twenties. The master of the huntress of Arcadia, bonding with her deeply even in the state of a Berserker, as well as the king of Conquerors. A greek with roots towards the old Macedonia. Christos.

A playful look on her lips, Penthesilea’s eyes followed them. ‘No doubt that package in her hand is for Izo. And if Atalanta isn’t around him, then she is probably preparing something herself.’, she laughed to herself.

She knew that Izo and Vera were pretty much married at this point. Out of all the powerful Servants she possessed, he was the one who received a holy grail from her. Trust was merely a word with how close they had become.

But who Penthesilea was interested in was the other one. Shrugging his broad shoulders at something Vera said, the queen shook her head at Christos. ‘I cannot explain myself why him and Atalanta are needing so long. Both Berserker and Archer.’, the queen wondered.

Diving into her memories, she saw herself sitting under the protective shade of a tree, using Achilles’ chest as a pillow as he fixed her signature blue hairband.

But from afar, their watchful gazes observed something curious.

As much as he had tried to focus on a book, Atalanta Alter had made her master grow incredibly nervous. She didn’t do anything out of the ordinary, but her nose twitched a little bit and her tail was rising.

_“Say, Achilles. You and her were in the same war.”._

_“Yep. I think I know what you want to ask. She was very closed off. Honestly, the amount she speaks with Christos is insane compared to what even my old man told me.”._

_“So I can be certain about my guess that she is in love?”._

_“Master’s friend, Vera, already told me that she knows Atalanta is infatuated with him and he is with her as well.”._

_“But her tale is making him worry. The part about her being turned into a lion, or…”._

_“I think he misinterprets her oath of purity that she is never supposed to be seen with any male. How was it with you?”._

_“If you had someone to love, that was fine. You’d only risk Artemis’ scorn by breaking that oath. And considering how she is around us…I don’t that she would mind, as long as the one Atalanta chooses is loyal…”._

They had thought for a few seconds, yet came to the same answer.

_“He couldn’t have harem even if he tried to, Penth. He is not the person for something this…loose.”._

_“No. Christos respects loyalty. No wonder he prefers Odysseus over you.”._

_“Correct. That is w- Hey, wait! He…B-but he has Iskandar!”._

_“Only because your fan likes the Iliad, doesn’t mean his master has to as well. Christos preferred the Odyssey and, well, the Argonautica. Even my own tale.”._

And silently they had watched how the stiff master endured the lioness mustering him, yet herself not saying a thing.

Back in Chaldea, Penthesilea shook her head on the way to the kitchen. ‘I hope one of them is taking this day as their opportunity. Gods on Olympus. I cannot watch this anymore.’, she lamented how long it took. ‘If this goes on, I will prepare him myself to take up his role. At least I should before lady Artemis does. If she tries to get them together, I have the feeling it is going to escalate in the worst manner possible.’.

With her last thought gone, Penthesilea entered the kitchen and…

…to no one’s surprise, found a certain green-clothed huntress there with the master of the kitchen itself looking over what she tried to do.

“Oh. _Kalimera_ , Atalanta. Good morning, Emiya.”, the queen greeted the two Archers.

“Good morning.”.

“Kalimera.

A knowing smile made Atalanta blush. “I see. So, you are taking the opportunity.”, Penthesilea whispered, earning a swift nod that Emiya failed to see as he gazed at the queen taking an apron. He couldn’t imagine the queen knowing her way around the kitchen. “Do you need-“.

“No, Emiya. I do not need your assistance.”.

Not even one of his projected swords felt as sharp as her tongue. Neither has his tanned skin felt heat that burned his skin quite like the queen’s. “A leader who doesn’t know how to create meals for herself is not worthy of respect. How is such meant to lead an entire army of amazons?”.

Upon seeing Emiya pale, Atalanta held back her urge to laugh, remembering the incident where he held a lecture in front of her master and a bunch of rampaging amazons closed in.

And to the great shock of the heroic spirit of the kitchen…

…Penthesilea knew exactly what she wanted to do. Everything she did with frightening precision and taste. Her imagination knew no bounds as her hand carefully crafted what could be only described as a work of art.

And by the end of it…

…

“…I don’t even know how you got them into that size…or shape…”, Emiya breathlessly stared at the chocolate the queen had made.

Spiked balls in form of her own favorite weapon. Massive and probably even able to be used for fights. Dark brown chocolate on top and strawberry flavored underneath.

A perfect present, made by the perfect warrior queen, proudly letting others gaze at her handiwork. She was quite proud of herself.

“I told you I know my way around the kitchen, Emiya. Atalanta, did you doubt me?”.

“I am one of the last to doubt you when you are so sure of yourself.”, shook her head, unaware of Penthesilea golden gaze staring at her own present hiding behind her.

A chocolate covered apple with two small arrows lodged into it, bearing the symbols of the sun and the moon.

“You know…”, Penthesilea smiled, pointing at the apple. “If you tell your master that it was a golden apple, I am sure he will understand. I am sure that would make him give up. Take at least this bit of advice from the queen.”.

A bright red blush spread on the huntress cheek and, untypical for her, she averted her gaze from Penthesilea. It was surprising, as the huntress was proud in everything she did. Considering that her Berserker side was already so strongly bonded with Christos, she thought the Archer would have a bit of that headstrong nature as well.

Beside her Emiya cleared his throat. She knew the twitch of his lips too well by now, fighting to not turn into an amused smirk. “Well…you know…”, he nearly chocked on a bit of his own laughter. But it was more than enough to get the message to the amazon queen, flinching as if cold water was thrown over her.

“Wait…You are not serious…”.

Atalanta felt that Penthesilea’s eyes nearly fell out of their sockets and cautiously averted her gaze towards her feet. “D-Did you really take one of the golden apples he hordes and…”.

“…I did…”.

There was nothing more, literally nothing, Atalanta could do get her feelings through her master’s skull. Not as clearly as this.

Shaving a golden apple and coating it in chocolate to offer her master.

Anyone who knew her legend, was aware that this was the purest kind of confession one would ever receive from the huntress.

Penthesilea was impressed how far she would go for this. Crossing her arms, she stared at her chocolate weapons on the table. She didn’t have to go that far for Achilles and Mae to get the point across, but she wanted to. It was her will and love given the form of her beloved weapons.

But Atalanta had a fight to win here.

A fight that was her own damn legend.

A soft smile on the normally hardened face, Penthesilea grasped Atalanta’s shoulder, gifting her a nod of trust and support. A warm appreciative smile returned, the huntress left and the queen took her weapons.

But one question still bothered her.

“Say, Emiya…”, Penthesilea asked at the door front. “What is Alter doing to get her feelings across today?”.

Worried, she watched how his eyebrows dropped, speaking of a hard struggle in the kitchen nearby.

But Penthesilea had faith that Atalanta Alter could pull through, whatever she wanted to do. The calydon huntress knew her master better than anyone. And if it didn’t work, she’d help, if it was necessary.

But for now, she needed to deliver her presents.

…

After a few more hours, the hero finally awoke. His green hair was all over the place like a wet sea plant. But the moment he gazed at the pillow at his side, his instinctively took in a deep breath.

Achilles could still take in Penthesilea’s scent.

It was sharp, distinctive and pleasant. Something regal, only befitting for the queen of amazons. Paired with the memories of last night, he wished to reminisce a bit more. But he needed to get up at some point.

With a yawn and a good stretch, tired eyes gazed around their room, from his trusty harp on the sideboard, to the dining table…

…finding the large spiked balls of chocolate.

“What in the…?!”.

For a second he thought those were her own she used to crush enemy skulls. But upon a closer look, he noticed how it was made of hardened chocolate. A note was in front of it, screaming for him to look at it.

The black ink was written with elegant swings, scripted in ancient greek only few could read. It should be unusual for a Berserker, but not for a queen.

_“To the one I call my faithful king…”._

Achilles’ adam apple bobbed as he began to read.

_“As heroic spirits, we cannot hope to count how much time must have passed since we met. Maybe we met in other wars, fought and killed each other._

_Sometimes I wonder, if our meeting back in the war could have ended differently._

_Would I not have the scar on my chest?_

_Would you have not been put through your hardships?_

_I cursed you…yet you still loved me, no matter where you were._

_In the throne of heroes. In the great holy grail war._

_No matter where you were, you adored and respected my strength, but my pride only heard one thing. I wonder if I should hate the scar tracing my chest. I regret what you had to do to Atalanta and Chiron because of my curse. I regret that you had to kill those you consider family._

_And let it be known…_

_…I would curse you again._

“…Heh...”, he laughed with dropped eyebrows. “You are using my own words against me.”.

_“I would curse you over and over, if it meant I could meet you again and fall in love. I would do so over and over, to feel your lips on this very wound, tenderly caring for me. You would endure and come back to my side. And for that…_

_…I bestow you this as my sign of respect as a fellow warrior, queen, and…_

_…my eternal love.’_

A few tears fell down his chin, landing near words he hoped to hear from her own lips.

_‘Sagapo…agapi mou…’._

He could count on one shaking hand how often she called him that. Her pride didn’t allow it, no matter how often he said it himself. It only happened while she was in a good mood and drunk from victory wine. While to other Servants it was apparent, she herself wished to keep the image of the cool, respectable queen. But even if these words, clear as the sky over Greece, were on paper, Achilles’ felt his heart nearly jumping out of his throat, knowing how much through were behind them.

_“Tch. I am really no good with this romantic stuff._

_I made sure the chocolate is rich in nutrition. So eat as much as you can, gather your strength and come to the training room. I will be waiting there._

_Before I forget. The large one is for you and the other is for Mae. As much as I wanted to make one of the same size, we had to be careful with the ingredients and she is still lacking a warrior’s stomach. Bring it to her on your way._

_And don’t keep me waiting…_

_Signed, Penthesilea._

_PS: By chance, if you meet Christos on the way, tell him to go the simulation of Greece. Atalanta, Archer, is there waiting for him._

_I think today might be the day this whole thing is going to end. But do not tell Iskandar just yet.”._

While the part about his sister taking the necessary step in her relationship with her master brightened his day already, what really struck him deep was her valentines gift and her effort for the letter.

His smile never left his lips.

“What did I do to deserve this…?”.

As he gazed into the mirror, he froze at his own pathetic look and rushed to the bathroom. ‘I hurt so many people…’, he thought as he washed his face. ‘I killed teacher, whom I saw as my father. I stopped sis’ rampage and thought she’d hate me. I finally found you and was distraught by how I stomped on your pride.’.

Despite his thoughts, he greeted his own image with a white and bright smile before putting on a bit of perfume. It was a habit he had from his old life.

‘Yet you still gave me this chance to love you. To make amends.’.

His sweet tooth was definitely delighted upon the first taste of the chocolate weapon. Without wasting much time, he rushed out in full armor with both of the weapons.

Achilles’ feet carried him as fast as he could.

‘There are so many things I wish to tell you. But, call it a fear every Servant carries, I always dread our time running short, even if we have all the time in the world here in Chaldea.’.

His arms yearned to wrap around the short queen, lift her to Olympus to where she belonged.

A goddess of war, powerful as a storm and more beautiful than Aphrodite.

Could someone like that even exist?

But before he could think about his lovely queen even more, he stopped at Mae’s room. “Master! It is time to wake up!”, he shouted in front of the closed door. “Maaaster! Mae! Are you there?”.

“Would you stop shouting, mongrel?”.

Barely awake himself, the ever-tired king of Babylon warned the Rider of Red to keep his voice low. Achilles, groaning and rolling his eyes, really didn’t like kings and Gilgamesh even less. There were quite a few Servants who were not too fond of the king of heroes, despite this one being the near-perfect king at the end of his life cycle. Mostly the actions of his younger self who had turned into a brat are the cause of the friction in his reputation.

And that very Archer is still causing trouble concerning a certain queen.

“Master is still asleep. I helped her with her reports up until a few hours ago.”.

“Wait, what?!”, Achilles gasped sharply. “She is human! Mae still needs her sleep!”. “She is as stubborn as your wife, Achilles.”, Gilgamesh grunted with annoyance. “Stubborn french amazon we got there. Let her rest and come back later. By twelve she should be up.”.

Without another word, the king brushed by with a mere pat on Achilles’ shoulder.

“Make sure to not eat the one meant for Mae, hahaha!”.

He had to keep his mouth in check, a lot. Because unlike that fool Agamemnon, Gilgamesh could potentially wipe him out of existence, if he should decide to do so.

“I hope you suffocate on that ego of yours one day…”, he couldn’t help curse once the king was out of range. The Archer was enough to piss him off, but a proper king is even worse.

But what bothered him more, was his master. ‘She never stays awake longer than necessary. When she gets tired, she sleeps, even if her sleep schedule is off at times.’, he wonders. Though there were a few things he had been concerned with for the longest time.

For now, he made himself on his way to Penthesilea, yet gifting the closed door another worried look. “I hope you are okay, Mae. When something is wrong, please talk to us.”.

When he finally arrived at the training room…

…he was dumbfounded to see Penthesilea not there, only finding Cu running backwards on one of the treadmills with a book in his hand. His piercing scarlet gaze couldn’t contain his smile at the size of the chocolate before the Rider could even ask why he did that. “Hoho. You got blessed by your war goddess, didn’t you?”. “Blessed is not even strong enough to describe this.”, Achilles grinned at the Lancer. “I would say my war goddess blessed me. Speaking of her, did you see her?”.

“She just walked out. I think she was heading towards the canteen for something.”.

“I see. Thanks, bro.”.

“No worries, bro.”.

“By the way…”.

Competitive as ever, he grinned at Cu. “If you are tired from those things, how about trying me and sis for size, if the hound of Culainn isn’t scared?”, he taunted as the dog bared its fangs. “Careful. That dog bites harder than you think. Next time on the beach I’ll make both of you eat my dust.”.

It wasn’t surprising at all that Mae’s Lancer and Rider had a competitive spark. Both were incredibly fast on their feet and their nature made them seem like they were brothers from different mothers.

And dare someone say something wrong to Mae. The last one who did that, had two spears shoved up where the sun doesn’t shine.

Down the hallway, after having noticed the canteen to be empty, Achilles’ excited grin returned the moment he noticed the two sole greek masters of Chaldea. “Ah! Christos, there you are!”.

Vera snorted the moment she recognized the cheerful tune belonging to the tall and lean build Rider of Red, brightly holding two large balls of spiked chocolate in his hands.

Both masters gasped in shock.

The spikes seemed sharp enough to even hurt and be used as a weapon. But he himself had the biggest grin on his face. “Ey…”, Vera slowly mustered up the courage to ask. “Maemae cannot have made those…are these from-“. “Penthesilea, yes.”, he beamed with such innocence, it was blinding. “I am trying to find her right now. Have you seen Penth?”.

How that was the same guy from the Iliad was a wonder at times.

Both shook their head.

But before he could blind them anymore or even sulk, if that was even possible, the Rider gazed at the one he called out before with the brightest grin. “Sis told me that if I stumbled upon you, I should tell you to go to the simulation. I mean Archer.”, he remembered what Penthesilea had written on the card. “Stumble upon me?”, Christos groaned. “If I didn’t know any better, you are stalking me to make sure I dare not lose interest in Atalanta. Or how else did I ‘accidently’ meet you when I was walking to Izo?”.

“I hope you don’t. I know you have quite a few beauties there, like that blackened king of knights. You don’t want to make auntie Medea mad or sis cry, do you?”.

“Don’t…”, Christos growled a warning, putting his hands in the pockets of his black jeans. But it was too late already. He didn’t fear his Caster getting angry. But the image of Atalanta crying was a nightmare. “Tch. Fuck. Now I have to think about France again. Efcharisto, malaka. Now I cannot get a crying Atalanta out of my head. Are you happy?”. The hero of the Iliad merely shrugged the master’s gratitude, full of sarcasm, off his shoulders. “Hahaha! Sweet how you worry over seeing her tears. But sis is one of the strongest women I know, only second to Penthesilea. She won’t cry that easily.”, his confident loud laughter echoed, only irritating the master more as it rang in his ears.

“Well, maybe tears of joy if you finally propose.”.

That he said with a playful wink. But before the master could bite back, the Rider gazed at the time.

“But seriously, get going. You shouldn’t keep your woman waiting. If you think you cannot make it, I can get you there.”.

“No, it’s fine. I can see now why Iskandar likes you so much. He took too much after you, aside from his heart for conquest.”, Christos groaned, tiredly waving his hand at Vera holding back really hard to not drop the box.

Once he was out of hearing range, Achilles stared at the short greek woman. “Care to enlighten me?”. “Atalanta Alter has gotten a bit aggressive over the last week. I don’t think it is going to take much longer.”, Vera assured the Rider.

That much he had expected already, having seen that moment himself together with Penthesilea. Reassured, Achilles thankfully nodded to the master. “Then I can stop worrying about her, can I?”.

Vera shakes her head with a playful grin. “You never had anything to worry to begin with. Medea is here and always keeping an eye out for the two.”, Vera assured once more. “What happened in that war happened, she has forgiven you. If anything, you should focus on your own woman. We are all expecting a wedding announcement from the queen herself, you know.”.

“W-Well…”.

Nervously the Rider sweated as the short master’s gaze grew intense once more. He loved Penthesilea to death and the outcome was inevitable. But what hindered him from saying those words, were fear of it all breaking apart.

“Achileeeeeees…!”.

And Vera did not appreciate that look.

“I-I have to get going. _Ta leme!”._

“Ey, Achilles! _Perimene_! _Malaka_ …”.

Swift as ever he was gone.

Where he went?

Straight to his master’s room, still running around with the spiked chocolate goodness in his hand. Remembering the king’s words, he wanted to call his master again…

“You took your time, Achilles.”.

But the instrument of the gods that was his muse showed her powerful frame right beside him.

The moment that warm smile greeted him, every single cell in his body short-circuited. The presents carefully laid on a nearby table, his strong arms that had screamed so long to hold her, suddenly grasped the queen.

Short and light as a feather, Penthesilea swiftly found herself up high enough to look down at his serene face.

“What did I do to deserve you?”.

How warm her chest felt upon his gaze rising to her golden eyes. How carefully he held the queen to reach for olympos to take the throne of the gods for herself. How his words of adoration made her lips curl into a smile none had ever seen.

As powerful as his own where, she latched onto his neck, answering with a kiss he wouldn’t forget.

Deep and thorough, like the day they fought, yet without the taste of blood tarnishing the moment.

Her lips were soft and sweet from her taste-testing before, tasting even better than the spike of the chocolate he tried before rushing out of their room.

Dislodging herself, she closed his lips with her finger. “This is for the man who’d go through these hardships again, solely to stay at my side.”, her adoring whisper reached for his heart. “That is what you would do, right?”.

“I would. Over and over. I would endure every pain, only to be back with you.”.

Back on her feet, she gazed at the spiked balls, waiting for Achilles to answer, ruffling his green hair. “I went straight on my way to Mae, but she was still asleep. That aside, Gilgamesh brushed by, and-“. “Tch. That troublesome king.”, she muttered, grasping one of them. She didn’t need to hear anymore. With the smaller one in hand and the other with Achilles, the queen unlocked the door.

She asked for a copy of Mae’s card key to get her out of bed when it was too late.

Once inside, they found complete darkness. No lights at all, not even the flicker of a candle.

Achilles began to worry, but Penthesilea hushed him with a wave of her hand.

Because someone was still sound asleep.

Curled on her bed like a caterpillar, the french amazon, Master of both Penthesilea and Achilles, turned to them in her slumber. A few loose strands of hair waved with every soft breath she took.

With the chocolate on a nearby table, the queen of the amazons sat down on the edge of the bed, while he knelt in front of her. “Gilgamesh said she worked the night through.”. “Idiot.”, Penthesilea sighed, gently patting Mae’s side. “A good warrior needs to rest as well…Huh?”.

Walking to the master’s desk, Penthesilea’s eyes widened.

Her master was an incredible artist. Something she heard and denied just as often.

Tenderly, her fingers traced a picture the master drew of Penthesilea in Achilles’ arms as they seemed to stare into the camera, both dressed elegantly for a night out. A picture, both amusing and heartwarming.

A smile on her lips, she walked towards the bed. Watching with an attentive gaze on Achilles’ hand carefully brushing the lose strands of Mae back, Penthesilea couldn’t help smiling at the sight. “She is pretty, isn’t she?”, she joked at his expense, but also with honesty that now got them together. And a smug grin answered it. “And she fights against compliments like that as much as you do.”, he feigned annoyance. “Always when you compliment her, she goes all ‘No, no, no! I am not! Stop embarrassing me! Kill me!’ It took a long time until she grew used to you calling her a french amazon, right?”.

A low, exaggerated sight escaped Penthesilea. “As long as Atalanta needs to confess to her master and him not flinching back whenever someone remarks on their close bond.”, she remarked on certain other people having problems of their own. “Christos and Vera call her that as well. Maybe that is what brought her to accept it.”.

No matter what it was: When people remarked something about her master being exceptional, her looks, her art, how she makes people laugh, she denied it with flailing arms and a shaking head.

To the point it worried both her Berserker and her Rider.

“Mae…”.

Kneeling besides Achilles, Penthesilea softly stroked her master’s dual colored orange hair. “You deserve better than you make yourself believe. You bring joy to people and made friends through them. Some you will never lose.”, she whispered with an unusual tenderness. “You deserve to sit on a throne with me and not what you yourself think.”. “She is right, you know.”, Achilles continued Penthesilea’s gratitude, putting an arm over her shoulder and his free hand brushing over their master’s forehead. “You made my dream come true. Sis forgave me. Teacher is with me. And I can be as close to my queen as I always desired. You have a gift to make people happy with your straightforwardness at times. And those who cannot appreciate it, they do not deserve to be close to you. That straightforwardness we have in common.”.

Pulling the blanket up to cover their delicate, shivering master, their hands protectively around the back of her head…

…they vowed their loyalty.

Taking a deep breath, Achilles began. “No matter whom dares to make you feel miserable or brings you to cry. Once we find them…”.

“…we will crush all of them. You are my french amazon. OUR french amazon.”, Penthesilea finished. “You have kept your promise and have done so much more than I asked. I love you like my own flesh and blood, Mae. Remember that. Me and Achilles will always be by your side.”.

The hands vanishing back into the darkness…

“Happy valentines, master.”.

…both sat at the bedside. Even in complete darkness, they protected her.

No matter where her life would lead her.

…

“No, no, no! I am not! I do not deserve that!”.

“As if, master! You definitely deserve something.”.

“Don’t fight it, Mae. Just let Achilles gift you something. He won’t stop.”.

“But Penthesilea, I did nothing for you two! I just got chocolate from you! A-And I cannot accept his shield!”.

Out of the corner with two milkshakes in hand, Mae and Christos watched the flustered greek master fight her way out of Achilles’ strong arm on her shoulder and Penthesilea’s hand holding hers.

Without even glancing at his friend, the greek’s lips let go of the straw. “So, back to normal on valentines day number two. What even is he going to gift her?”. “Heard something about his shield right now.”, Vera remembered, continuing to slurp on her shake as Christos rubbed his muzzle. “Of course she wouldn’t accept that. Would be funny if he’d give her one of his horses.”.

“Pff. Are you expecting him to just give up on Xanthus or something? That is not going to happen. As if he’d give her a talking horse.”.

“We are talking about Achilles. Don’t forget that.”.

“Right. But instead of wondering about that…”, Vera concluded, switching her gaze from the awkwardly smiling french amazon to piercing her greek pal with the widest shit-eating grin she could ever muster. “Say…I heard that Heracles carried Atalanta Alter’s bed out of her room into yours. Both ladies were seen going in there as well. Sooo? Anything you want to tell me?”. “Can we please talk about this somewhere else?!”, he begged as they walked away from the french still denying her gifts.

As much as Mae might try, until she finally accepted it, Penthesilea and Achilles were relentless.

And the moment they were gone, a beautiful white stallion made the Rider of Red into the butt of all jokes by refusing to speak. As he fumed and threatened to make him run laps with Heracles on him before it rushed off, Penthesilea smiled as Mae kept herself from laughing at the stupid look on Achilles’ face.

And that was all she wanted right now. Seeing her happy was all Penthesilea wanted on valentines. And even as he chased his horse through Chaldea, the sound of his master’s lofty giggles was music to Achilles’ ears.

These two love their master and no matter where non would come close to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mae.
> 
> Her and Vera are some of the view people I met and bonded with on Deviantart. A phenomenal artist who drew one of the sweetest pictures of this tragic greek pair. She loves them both dearly and Penthesilea came very early to her. But Achilles had been a bit of an ass when it came to heeding her summons on the Apocrypha event and then later stopped by. 
> 
> I think it was around 600 sq she lost -_-
> 
> The whole idea behind this one has to do not only with Penthesilea's interlude, but also Achilles' history with her as well. So, let me dive into mythology a bit.
> 
> Achilles had, at the point he met Penthesilea in the trojan war, lost a lot of things already. Patroclus was dead and the infuriated Achilles had not only soundly beaten Hector in his rage, but dragged him behind his chariot for three days, before Troy's king begged under tears for him to return the body. Not only was our Rider devastated to see the king in such a state, but he remembed the warning of his mother. 
> 
> The short life of a hero or a long life as a peasant. 
> 
> He was about to die and well aware, returned the corpse with his own tears flowing. The fighting continued and at one point, Penthesilea wanted to face him in combat. While they fought honorably, Penthesilea couldn't beat him. While in the Iliad she was already gone when he took off her helmet, in Fate lore, she was still alive for a few seconds. Achilles respects her as a warrior. That much he told in her interlude. But he was also startled by her beauty, which was the only word that came out from him, enfuriating her to the point she cursed him to kill loved ones. That came true in Apocrypha where he killed both Chiron, who he saw as a father, and Atalanta, whom he saw as his big sister.
> 
> Penthesilea is frustrated. The only thing she wishes is for people to see her strength over her beauty, cursing herself to a younger appearance before she became beautiful, which...
> 
> ...didn't quite work out. Achilles is still in love with her XD
> 
> But in his own words, he cannot fight her. Every single second he sees her, he sees her beauty and is unable to commend her strength. He accepts his own inability with a good chunk of overconfidence in his own abilities. Those who had Penthesilea for the longest time and have seen how she suffers from that anger, felt very, very conflicted about it and no doubt about it, they would wash his head for her sake, so that he can commend her beauty AND her strength.
> 
> But sometimes, that is the beauty in tragic love. Penthesilea's own story made by von Kleist further dives into the topic by having her stay alive long enough to fall in love with him, before in the ritual, she savagely kills him, later ripping out her own beating heart. 
> 
> Either he kills her, or she kills him.
> 
> I love these two and I wish nothing more than for them to be together. 
> 
> And for those curios, here is the picture Mae drew that day. Hope you enjoyed it :)
> 
> https://www.deviantart.com/maewenmitzuki/art/ACHILLES-x-PENTHESILEA-831739331


	3. A new oath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Months had passed since she was summoned.
> 
> In France she had met her end against Medea's dreaded dagger and died in her dear sister's arms. Never could she forget the tears dropping on her face. But what she never forgot, was the tender touch of the Caster's master holding the huntress' hand before she faded towards the stars.
> 
> "Christos...what do you think...of children? I mean...when you find an abandoned child alone outside...would you leave it to die?".
> 
> "If I'd find a crying baby abandoned outside...I would take it with me. I would try to find its parents and if no one would want to give it a life it deserved...", I answer her, watching her smile brighten. "...I would just raise it myself. No child should suffer like this.".
> 
> These words never left, staying firm together with the hope to see them all again. And now, standing in the kitchen under the watchful gaze of a red Archer, the huntress pours her heart into what could be her long overdue happiness.
> 
> Even though her Berserker self appeared in Chaldea earlier than she did herself, her feelings hadn't change, only further blossoming.

“Okay, the apple skin is off.”.

“Good. Now all you need to do is sink it into the chocolate and let it cool.”.

Carefully, tender fingers drowned the apple into the liquified chocolate. Inexperience made her shiver a little bit.

“…Like this?”.

“Exactly.”.

Overseeing Atalanta’s work, wearing his battle uniform of an apron that has seen many gruesome wars in the kitchen observing other Servants cooking, Emiya curiously eyed the huntress.  
  
All for this moment she actually arranged her mane so no hair would get into the sweet dark chocolate and an apron of her own in green.

“And you actually took a golden one for this?”.

A tint of red graced Atalanta’s cheeks. Yet her smile didn’t fade. It was something she wanted to do for a long time.

It was the only way she thought to get through to him.

“What all of you did…”.

Pulling out the apple so he could see it, she asks: “You, Medea, Iskandar…Mae and Vera. Their Servants as well. You were teasing my master because you knew about his feelings when he didn’t right?”. A small chuckle escaping his lips, Emiya turns his gaze towards today’s dinner menu. “I would lie if I said we didn’t.”, he openly answers the older Archer.

“When Iskandar first asked him which tale intrigued him the most…”.

The apple sinking back into the chocolate lake inside the bowl, Atalanta’s heart began to race as Emiya remembers the aftermath of the second singularity in Fuyuki.

“I was betting that it was Odysseus. He was a gentleman and loyal to his wife, Penelope, unlike many older legends. If anything, Christos is disgusted by men who betray their wives for the sake of having a harem or simply to sleep with them. Loyalty is a virtue and highly valued to him.”.

“I see…”, Atalanta whispers, grinning over both ends. “There is a reason I was summoned to his side. Loyalty is one of his strongest aspects. That is our master for you, right?”.

With an amused look, Emiya watched the blushing huntress, partly to tease and out of curiosity. “Yeah. That is him, to a fault. But in the end, he chose you. He didn’t even notice how red his face got as he spoke about you.”, he remembered aloud how the master spoke of her with such awe and respect.

Atalanta laughed softly. Though the red Archer began to frown. While having been amused, there was one thing that had bothered him that day when his master’s adoring look had faded.

“What about that was from anger and what from shyness, I still don’t know.”.

Her warm laugh froze with the chill wind of the past.

“…Anger?”.

“Your father.”.

“Ah…I see…”.

More he didn’t say. Atalanta’s flopped ears and fading voice conveyed her distress quite clearly. Her father was a topic she never liked talking about. So many things could have turned out better, if not for his plot to have her marry and bear a grandchild. The mere thought of the bearded king brought her heart explode with rage…

…and the image of her own master’s twisting from such an ugly emotion made regret wash over her. It was her tale after all that had him riled up like this. Someone whom she felt bonded to like this should not have to feel her hatred.

Clearing his throat, Emiya instead opted to cheer her up. “Are you going to tell him you took a golden apple for that?”.

Silently, she gazed at the present. All her feelings were being poured into it.

“He doesn’t need to run.”.

Emiya’s eyebrows curiously rose and brown eyes warmed up at Atalanta’s sparkling emeralds. “No need to run? Then why are you running with him? Aren’t you trying to improve his stamina?”. “I want him to be able to run when it should get dangerous.”, Atalanta explained her desire to challenge her master. “We don’t know what will happen in the future and as Archers, our protection is limited. We do not wield a mighty shield like Mashu, neither can our bows block blows.”. Yet as much as she gazed into reality, a part of Artemis seemed to have rubbed off on her.

“As much as I would have loved to lose an honest race against him, we are Servants. We are not normal. I will always be faster than him, no matter what happens. And if I slowed down for him, he would notice and beat himself up. Besides…”.

Pulling the apple out, it was carefully put onto a plate.

“Even if he gazes at us as fond friends…You and Iskandar…even if I’d like to be more with him…”.

Fear always had a strong grasp on her when it came to that topic. She had talked about this with Medea so, so often and gained assurance as much that what she feared wasn’t true, Atalanta hoped the red Archer to be of help.

“Maybe…somewhere deep in the shadows of his mind…his darkest thoughts see us as nothing but walking corpses…”.

“Forgive me for being rude, Atalanta.”, Emiya’s words shot faster than his arrows dug into a demonic beast. “That is ridiculous and you know it. Berserker, your Alter, told you what happened with their battle against Jalter. The last thing you have to fear, is him not seeing you as a human.”. Their master could never see them as just reanimated corpses. For that, he was far too attached to many of them. Emiya was sure to have heard Atalanta sigh with relief, further driving the point home. “The moment he’d see you as a corpse, he would ask himself what he was doing here the entire time. But is that truly the only thing that troubles you?”.

A warm and grateful smile graced her lips once more.

“Well…”.

That apple she carried to the fridge was her heart and soul put into it. So much hope rested inside of it.

“I soon noticed that he wasn’t meant for running.”, Atalanta admitted, looking Emiya straight in the eye. Solace sparkled right at him, surprising him greatly. “You are right. He has a really mean kick and his punches pack weight as well. I still remember when he actually got me once.”, he grunted, rubbing behind. That kick reminded him too much of a certain girl lingering in his memories, yet it had the force of a hammer. “A runner he was never meant to be, but once he gets his body in shape, I can see him underneath the lights of a ring, much like his father. But why do you seem satisfied about this?”.

“Because the only reason I had to run, was to stay alone.”.

Her overjoyed laughter made him worry about her state of mind. If some ordinary girl went through Atalanta’s life, they would be scarred beyond recognition. Yet here the huntress was laughing to herself, hiding her concern. “Christos…he was out of breath so often. Sometimes even close to wheezing. He tried his hardest, but I grew worried at some point. I stopped running ahead of him and stuck to his side. I taught him how to breathe properly while running as well. And I realized that a race wouldn’t work in my favor.”.

Her explanation struck him with an idea. A smile spread wide on his lips, imagining what she was trying to do.

“I see. That is a nice little nuance to your conditions back when you were racing to be left alone instead of for fun as you do now. Giving him an apple to use against you is clever.”.

“It would. Giving him the apple to use against me and make me loose. Yet that is not my desire.”.

Her words were warm, tender, as she put her hands in the sink to let the cold water clean them.

“I am not going to risk some kind of illness resurfacing because of play and neither will I risk hurting his own pride. He may hide it, but it is beating inside the breast of every being. Be it pride over yourself, your friends, your family or a skill you possess. But I know he might be stubborn to not accept if he cannot win. After all, he not only respects me a great deal, but is also still scared about people’s tendencies to think he might be out to take my oath away from me. Positively ridiculous once we see how he can get once we get close to him. Lady Artemis herself has already been watching him a few times and, in her own words, sees him as her son-in-law.”.

“R-Really?”, Emiya fought to keep his smile. But he knew the moment their master heard about the goddess of the hunt watching him, he’d not be leaving his room for a while.

Wiping her hands on the apron, Atalanta took a deep breath to still her beating heart.

“Before he runs with all he can and breaks down…”.

As the door is closed, Atalanta faces Emiya with a smile. One radiant enough to blind anyone in vicinity with a voice belonging to a protective angel.

“He is getting an advantage none other ever will. Once I tell him this is a golden apple I skinned and coated solely for him…there is no choice to be made anymore, besides one.”.

…

‘Why are all of them pressing me so much?’.

The only bit of peace he had right now, was walking the strangely lonely halls of Chaldea. No matter where he went, he’s see people exchanging gifts.

Sigurd had taken Brynhildr to a simulation to celebrate.

Cleopatra was feasting together with Caesar, ignoring his shape for this special day.

Vera had a special chocolate cake made for Izo, as it was both Valentines day and his birthday.

Achilles had rushed by with spiked balls of chocolate made by his beloved queen, Penthesilea. His joy was written all over his face as his feet carried him to his queen. One of them was made for his beloved master, their french amazon, as she was fondly nicknamed.

But before the Rider of Red had rushed off into nowhere, he gave Christos, the master of the Servant who was formerly known as the Archer of Red, a message the Servant couldn’t help himself report with a bright grin.

Atalanta was waiting for him in a simulation.

Clenching the bridge of his nose, the master sighed towards the sky. ‘Damn you, Achilles.’, he cursed the Rider. ‘First you annoy me at every corner, speak about Atalanta the entire time, telling me even you are attempting to make us a couple and now she…’.

With Valentines in mind, the master swiftly shook his head.

But an image silently persisted.

On a hill underneath a strong tree overwatching the ocean, she might be waiting. Delicate hands cradled hope and love for the one she called master.

The moment she turned her head, he shook his head more violently this time. His heart was nonstop drumming inside his ear. Because no matter how often he imagined her, she was smiling. Warm and at ease, nothing holding her back, she waited for him, coated in the sunset’s radiance.

And it wasn’t only Achilles that pressured the master of Atalanta. He was only the fourth on the ranking list.

His own Servants, Iskandar and Emiya, while playful teases, knew his feelings better than he himself might have thought. The queen of amazons, Penthesilea, a woman who is the dedicated daughter of the war god Ares and prayed to the deity of the moon and hunt, Artemis, knew of his affection for her and those of the woman in question.

But she was aware that wasn’t all that held him back.

The one who knew best however, was Christos’ very own Caster. The feared witch of Colchis, Medea.

Every since they met and fought together in the singularity in France, the Caster had been very supportive of her master, who seemed to have a hand for solving people’s troubles. Even her own tale he listened to without laughter of Aphrodite steering her loveless life only to help Jason.

Medea was fond of her master. So much, that she openly told him that her dearest friend would like him.

But that only raised his guard to teases and comments even more.

Atalanta’s own tale pushed her master away from her. And the huntress herself was scared as well.

Both fought an unknown feeling that was swelling inside their chests with every passing day…

…ever since her dear sister, Medea, had struck her down with the knife meant for Jason, with the assistance of Penthesilea.

On his way to the canteen, he brushed by a few Servants, who today seemed to take a turn around him. His absent-minded frown had given them the clear warning that he did not wish to be spoken to.

As Christos reached the empty canteen, walking straight to the coffee machine, his mind couldn’t avert themselves from those wonderful emerald eyes. Not even when the dark, brewing liquid had finally filled his cup and bitter scent played with his nose.

The approaching footsteps behind him already soured it before he even put sugar into it.

“I told you already, I am going to Atalanta. There is no reason to follow me around.”.

“Oh. I am sorry. I didn’t mean to be a bother.”, a gentle, young voice made him flinch. The too respectful answer was a cold blade tearing his back open.

Very carefully he turned his head and upon a small glance over his shoulder, saw innocent, crimson eyes gazing at him.

The young Caster and Astolfo’s former master, who was by chance one of the Servants Vera was very fond and protective of.

Sieg.

‘Shit…It had to be Sieg of all people I lost my temper on.’, Christos cursed the circumstances. Despite what he heard the young man having been through, he was still very innocent in his view of the world. There was too much to learn for him. Not only about games and books, but also certain feelings. He himself knew, seeing himself as a Servant that shouldn’t be around too much.

Even so much, he doesn’t want to be materialized often to save Chaldea the mana.

Taking a long, deep breath, Christos returned to his coffee, apologizing with deep regret: “I am really sorry, Sieg. You got me at a really bad moment.”. Sieg only shook his head with a bright smile. “Nothing to apologize for. I should have announced myself.”, he brushed it off. “But you mentioned you were going to Atalanta. I hope you don’t mind me asking, but did you two get into a fight?”.

The sudden jump nearly made him spill his coffee all over his clothes. Thankfully, he could stop his quivering hand. “N-No! Me and Atalanta didn’t get into a fight! Wait, are you talking about Berserker or Archer?”. “Archer. You and Berserker do not seem like a pair that would be able to fight.”, he answered with a tilt of his head. “You are laying on her lap at times, right?”.

“Yeah. When Berserker is having a headache, she is laying on my-Wait, I did what?!”.

Now it was just getting out hand. Baffled, he could not remember anything like that. The Berserker used his lap at times when she was getting some of her headaches and wanted comfort. But not a single time had he noticed himself to be sleeping on her lap. Always he opened his eyes with her just laying and rolling in the grass beside him, but never did his eyelids open to gaze up into the Berserker’s lime green, tender gaze.

‘What is Alter doing while I am asleep?’, Christos now wondered. ‘Is that how it all started?’.

But now the young homunculus was too curious to be sent away the more Christos’ concern got easily readable.

Innocent as he was, it was mere worry that got him to stay.

Not even trying to send the young Caster away, Christos pointed towards the nearby table. “Well…I think I can tell you about this…”, he admitted quietly. “Do you drink coffee?”.

“No. I have seen my master drink it, but nothing else.”.

“Then I’ll just make you a tea for now.”.

“I appreciate it.”.

In quiet atmosphere, Christos explained what had transpired ever since the first meeting.

How Medea cried horribly upon having killed Atalanta in France and the huntress yearned for his touch, asking him of his opinion on children and what he would do if he found an orphan.

The moment she returned as a Berserker, tears of regret falling on his shoulder for what happened in the singularity, Atalanta was blaming herself for only causing others pain. It took an embrace and time alone to make her calm down.

Then, finding herself reflected in Jalter’s golden, piercing gaze as the flames threatened to consume her. The more she looked at it, Atalanta remembered her desperate struggle, realizing that it wasn’t love for children that fueled her, but intense rage for the rest of this rotten world.

And how close she got once it was all over, even nestling against his shoulder when he slumped down on the couch while he slept.

Once her Archer-self appeared with the same memories starting from the point of her death, Christos was never seen alone again. Always escorted by at least one lioness, loneliness was not able to grasp any of them.

But what astonished most who knew her…

…was how often she smiled.

They talked, laughed and joked, ending with another round as they noticed how both of them were unable to crack a joke.

“I see.”, Sieg nodded with hands cradling the warm cup of tea. As he processed all he heard, he watched the master across take a deep sip of coffee, hoping it helped his dry throat. “And Master told you before, that Atalanta is in love with you?”. “At least Berserker’s gesture she described as such.”, Christos muttered, staring into the black waves he created in his cup turning his hand.

“But I cannot imagine Atalanta of all people falling in love. Not with a guy like me.”.

“How so?”.

Frowning deeply, Christos remembered everything he despised. Everything in that legend that formed her into a secluded woman that strived for peace for children. A bright wish that either called beautiful or laughed at.

But never supported.

“Abandoned as a baby by her own father. Torn apart from the one she called her sister by that very same man promising to return her home with the status of a princess, only to hear that it was all for the sake of giving him a grandchild.”.

Sieg knew from the glare alone, that if Atalanta’s father should ever show his face as a heroic spirit, teeth would be flung all around Chaldea. It wouldn’t matter. Christos would use every command seal at his disposal to keep him from fighting back and make him suffer for what his beloved Archer and Berserker have been through.

Disgusted, Christos gritted his teeth and with a click of his tongue, shamefully turned his head away to not glare at the innocent young man across from him.

“She had to prove to the world and herself that she was alive and became a beacon of hope for children. In that, she found purpose, swearing an oath of purity to Artemis.”, Christos clearly remembered the written passages in the book. “She was never supposed to find a soulmate. And now…”.

Staring into his mug, supporting himself on a hand, he deeply glared at his own, pathetic reflection.

“She is supposed to be in love with me? Someone who never held a bow in his hand? I cannot even hope to keep up with her in a competitive race. You saw how fast she was on her feet on the beach, racing on par with Cu, Achilles, Bradamante and others before taking the victory around a sharp corner.”.

“I remember that she had to race because she wanted to keep her vow.”, Sieg remembered what he read in a few books of his master. “But from what I remember…Uhh…What did Penthesilea say to Achilles?”.

Christos’ eyebrow slowly rose as Sieg tried hard to remember.

“’You are lucky that you at least thought with your head instead of your pants.’?”.

Innocent as he was, he gave a questioning look as to why the muster suddenly seemed to suffocate. The last thing he wanted however, is for Vera to know that Sieg overheard how Penthesilea praised her lover for at least having had restrain, unlike many other legends, like the celtics.

“What did she mean by that, Christos?”.

“It isn’t important. But if you are really curious, ask Vera…”.

Shaking his head, Christos could under no circumstances bring himself to explain that. Even if they were guys, as long as what the master perceived as Sieg’s adoptive mother, under no circumstances is he going to explain exactly how Penthesilea was glad Achilles’ wasn’t libido-led. A bit disappointed, Sieg noticed how swiftly the man’s mind wandered back to his Servant.

No matter what was said, with the current day, the topic was heavy on his mind.

Every time he walked with Jeanne around Chaldea, Jeanne and Sieg would be in awe when Atalanta walked around Chaldea with a smile at the side of her master.

And that conflicted with something he knew from long ago. The reason he brought up the two warriors.

“Atalanta was never this happy.”.

Having the master’s full attention, Sieg’s hand brushed over the blades of grass on memory lane. Every single one told the story of the great holy grail war. But he was searching for certain one.

“She was secluded and lonely. Fixated on her wish, she held no compassion for anyone and barely exchanged words with them. Karna, Shakespeare, Semiramis, Spartacus, Mordred, Amakusa. All seemed to take a wide turn around her, only approaching her to use her desire for a world of children to make her fight. Achilles followed her, but only because he was familiar with her.”.

“Right.”, Christos remembered. “His father.”.

“Yes. Peleus.”, Sieg resumed, resting his chin on folded hands. “He told his son a lot about her, but they could never meet during his childhood due to her untimely death. It was to learn more about his father’s friend. But fixated as she was on her wish, his words of respect fell on deaf ears. And at some point…Jack-“.

Christos’ entire body tensed up.

Jeanne’s voice inside of him begged him once more.

“Please stop right there.”.

Startled crimson blinked into the deep, soft brown worrying for the huntress and the Ruler. “Jeanne pleaded me to never mention that topic. Atalanta will tell me herself once the time is right, so…”. “I understand.”, Sieg nodded. To be honest, speaking of that moment didn’t sit well with him either. It was at that point he felt conflicted about Jeanne’s own resolve. The huntress’ tears never left his mind either. It was a horrifying night, burned into his mind with Atalanta’s horrific howl. “Then…you heard about what happened in the end?”.

Solemnly, Christos nodded. “I was nearby when I heard it.”, he remembered the secretive talk in the simulation, cloaked by the shadows of the trees. Far away from prying eyes, the two talked about the last moments of the great holy grail war, not noticing the master walking by in search of her.

How his eyes perceived Atalanta as Penthesilea.

Atalanta told him over and over that he should learn to move on, yet he still needed those few seconds to explain why he stopped her that day. Penthesilea had followed him wherever he went and the moment she went insane, it broke him to see his childhood hero turn into the woman he loved and sent to hell by his spear. The few tears that had gathered, the huntress laughed off, telling him that he should use that regret to fix his final mistake and finally make himself Penthesilea’s spouse. The queen wasn’t gone and could still be saved.

It was heartwarming, before Achilles muttered to the huntress that he’ll compensate for it by helping her get closer to her master.

Her threat to behave was brushed off when the Rider rushed out with his gifted speed, leaving a flustered Atalanta alone in the office, fuming and stringing a bunch of curses starting with Peleus having never taught him manners.

While a small smile spread on his lips, Christos’ scowl still remained in front of Sieg. “So, you are saying that she really never…”. “Never.”, Sieg affirmed once more. “That Atalanta smiles so much is not only really refreshing, but also relieving. Jeanne always says she is glad that she found someone like you. Atalanta trusts you, so you believe in her as well.”.

The conflict inside of Christos shifted towards the better. Yet the master still wondered.

Why would Atalanta choose someone like him?

Both of them even?

He wanted to ask more. It was a huge help to speak with someone who was just a bystander. But time did not allow it. Gazing at the clock, Christos sighed: “Okay, let’s cut it for today. I still have to meet her.”. “That is fine. But…can I ask you something?”, the homunculus halted him for a few more seconds.

“When you look at Atalanta…what is your heart doing?”.

The master’s hand, adorned by his command seals, wandered to his heart.

Even the mere imagine of Atalanta in his mind brought his heart to race faster and faster. To much, he feared it bursting out of his chest and run straight to her.

“It is pounding.”.

With a helpless smile, Christos answered Sieg: “It feels like when I am off to fight with my Servants, yet without the adrenaline. It is almost pleasant.”.

“I…see…”.

Sharp brown eyes noticed the small, curios taps of the Caster on his own chest. It looked as if he was checking if his own was still beating. Feeling a teasing grin spread on his lips, Christos felt himself unable to stop.

“Oh…I see. So…maybe you want to tell Vera if there is a girl you like.”.

Rolling his shoulders and straightening his olive-green dress shirt, the man waved goodbye to the flustered Servant. “Thank you, Sieg. It was good talking to you. And if you do not want to talk to her, my office is open.”.

With his mind settled a bit and the knowledge that Atalanta was behaving like this only around him, her master decided it was time to face the music, leaving the blushing homunculus alone.

“As if…I am fighting Servants, but pleasant.”, he wondered, tapping his chest again as he stared at the door. Brushing his own problems aside, he smiled to himself, pressing his lips against his teacup.

‘She is in love with you. That I do not doubt. If no one can make her smile like this, there is not much room left for anything else.’.

…

Barely there, with an umbrella Da Vinci gave him, Christos arrived close at the beach of the greek simulation.

It was strange. He didn’t recognize where he actually was. Close to a beach, a hill overviewing the ocean behind him and a forest to his right.

Rain prattled down continuously. The sky, dark and unwelcoming.

‘She said to head towards the hill with a lone tree gazing at the ocean…’.

Heeding the genius’ direction, he walked up a steep hill.

The ground was not cooperating, slowly turning into mud. Hadn’t the rain be so gentle, it would have already made him slip and fall. But if he learned anything from Atalanta, it was a steady pace and firmly planting your feet on the ground.

How strange it was.

He wanted to get closer, yet the hill felt like it was an obstacle in itself. The more he imagined it to be something that pushed him away, the more he fought against it.

_“You know…sis really likes you. I have never seen her smile like this, so that means something. You already spent so much time together with them, so what would change? Listen…I know I am getting on your nerves. I am not even your Servant and I have no right to ask. But she is my old man’s friend and family to me…Please…can’t you consider it? I don’t want to see sis crying again.”._

‘Why?’.

_“While we amazons could vow an oath of purity to Artemis, few of us did in order, so they could create offspring with strong warriors. But even to the ones calling themselves her daughters, that wasn’t a restriction to not find a soulmate. I myself thought it was ridiculous, so I denied. My mind runs solely on being the strongest, so I thought I was unable to fall in love. I am glad I didn’t, or I wouldn’t know what I have right now. But even if I did, it wouldn’t change the bliss I feel.”._

‘Why are they all returning to me now?’.

Every single time somebody talked with him about Atalanta jumped back up in his mind.

_“If I am already as good as married with Izo, then what are you and your cat? I mean, come on, file. She is following you everywhere and she is sleeping in your room. You might as well put a ring on her finger already!”._

The more they talked, the more he wanted to get up that hill. His legs were already hurting and the wind was blowing the rain into his face, forcing him to shift the umbrella forward a bit.

_‘Atalanta…was always so horribly lonely…’._

Medea’s voice suddenly clearing his mind, froze him dead in his tracks.

A deep shaky breath fueled his muscles again with the oxygen needed to fight. Returning to a slower, calmer pace to preserve his stamina, his mind replayed the day him and Medea met for the first time.

He was awestruck by Medea’s beauty and her tenderness despite her reputation. More so, how much love she held for Atalanta.

_‘I was with her a lot. Every single day I loved to be with her. But now that I think about it, remembering the times we shared…Her wish was not wrong, but no one believed in it. Or in her. I told her one night, that there is a man out there somewhere for her. One who would not only say it was beautiful, but wholeheartedly support her with ideas. I…didn’t expect her to die alone without even me at her side…’._

Up on the hill, he silently gazed up at the protective branches. Not a single drop reached the roots underneath it, like a leaf green shield. Closing his umbrella, he sat down for a bit to rest his aching legs. Walking hill up was always a challenge and often had he failed right in the middle.

But this time, he won.

The rain filled air purified his lungs.

_‘Christos…You wouldn’t abandon her, would you? Even with the likes of the king of knights here, Ushiwaka or Martha…Atalanta, you wouldn’t discard her, right? You trust her with your heart?’._

“…Wasn’t I clear enough at the beginning, Medea?”.

Even if he was monologuing to himself, he thought he saw Medea in front of him. “I will never abandon Atalanta. I trust her too much for that.”, Christos chuckled, crossing his arms behind his back head as he gazed at the grey waves.

And the smile slowly faded for cold determination.

“What her father put her through, I will never allow again…”.

The rain only grew stronger and louder. The ocean was restless and grey waves crashed against the shore, threatening to devour the land.

Yet that mighty tree protected him from wind and rain.

Leaning against it, he closed his eyes, slowly drifting asleep…

…

‘I know he is coming here. I know he will.’.

Over and over Atalanta told herself that, cradling and protecting the present. The tree she leaned against, the sole shield at the top of the hill, made sure she didn’t get wet from the rain.

But she was worried about what was going to happen. Uncertain, her emerald eyes gazed at the golden, chocolate covered apple in her hands. ‘They all pushed me as well to this, Christos. Not only you.’, the Archer’s mind wandered as she leaned back.

How often they had spoken to her about her feelings. About the last moment in France.

_“Do not fear him abandoning you, huntress. I asked him if he preferred Achilles or Odysseus and he responded with neither. His eyes were on you the moment he read your tale. That is not just interest in your life, as he always said. There is deep affection he himself doesn’t know how to explore.”._

‘That you say, Iskandar. But how sure are you about this?’, Atalanta doubted the macedonian king, pushing her gift to her chest. ‘It is my very tale that makes him so closed off at times. But I am not any better. I fear getting close to him, only to get thrown away like I once did…’.

_“Atalanta, I have seen him already. Your master is really sweet around you and despite having so many female Servants as well, he seems to be the most comfortable around you. Honestly, if you want him, you have my full approval! You can do with your oath whatever you wish to, as long as I approve of him…I just want you, Atalanta, to be happy…my beautiful little girl…”._

‘Our time was too short, lady Artemis…’.

A silent, rueful smile remembered the time the goddess of the hunt held the infant in her arms. Even when she slowly grew older, her embrace was tender. But these protective arms had to leave at some point.

‘You say that I am free to do with my wish what I want as long as I have your approval over the man I choose. But what is he going to think if he hears you already accept him as your own son?’.

_“I told him about you, Atalanta…”._

“M-Medea…”.

The name breathlessly escaped her lips.

_“I…told him about us. How we shared such sweet times together. How I felt safe in your embrace and viewed you as my older sister. I kept the cause of your death hidden, so you tell him yourself when the time comes. But you do not have to be scared. You know I married myself and I can tell you, that our master is loyal…”._

“Then…why am I still so scared?”.

A drop landed on one of the twin arrows. A single one, crystal clear, full of sadness and unspoken fears.

The more she waited, the more Atalanta felt what she hoped to happen to crack.

Pressing the apple against her forehead, she shook her head, bruising her lips with her teeth. The last she wanted was for her master to come and find her crying. But what squeezed her chest, filled her heart ever since she was born.

Fear of abandonment.

It was ridiculous to many that Christos would abandon her. For a few months they fought together, ever since Mordred pulled her into the room. Her Alter even longer. Orders were conveyed without a single word or look. It was so natural at this point, that they felt unnecessary.

Yet it still squeezed at her chest.

“…Wasn’t I clear enough at the beginning, Medea?”.

Hearing the voice call out the same Caster she yearned to hear for support, she started to choke.

“I will never abandon Atalanta. I trust her too much for that. What her father put her through, I will never allow again…”.

The storm seemed almost like a protective measure now.

Here, all alone underneath that tree, she heard her master crush her fear with a single, firm blow.

Covering her tears and fighting not to cry, a smile began to pull Atalanta’s soft lips upwards with every struggled breath. “I-Idiot…”, her laugh was covered by the harsh rain. “As if you knew what to say right this second…Were you eavesdropping?”.

Taking all of her courage, the huntress rose to her feet, ready to face the challenge.

Her steps had always been the most silent in all of Chaldea. Some might even think she is actually an Assassin, but those were just years of living in harsh nature. So quiet, he didn’t notice once she stood right beside him.

Not until delicate fingers slowly rubbed against his temple.

But the touch was so comforting, that he didn’t want open his eyes. “Atalanta…”. “Give me just a few minutes, Christos.”, she whispered adoringly. “Let us enjoy this peace for a bit. You like the rain as much as I do, right?”.

“Yeah…I do.”, he answered quietly.

Atalanta often sat underneath trees. The purified air was liberating and the sound soothing the mind from the clashes of steel. Especially once Caenis had gone on one of her many rampages, the quiet was much needed. And always somebody would sit beside her like this.

Peleus would sit beside her and read the letter Thetis gave him again, speaking fondly of his love and how she desired him back to see his children. As much as he travelled to help Jason, he dearly misses his family. And she loved to see the excited smile on his face whenever he thought of names.

Medea would lean her head on Atalanta’s waist, her cheek stroked. Even if the constant talks about Jason were exhausting, once they were alone, the topics changed to so many things. That was when the true Medea broke through the love-stricken façade. She truly adored her like a sister and today, she thought of Medea as family.

Just the same as Achilles does her. Once there was peace and a day of rain in the great holy grail war, and he’d sit beside her without a word exchanged between them. Even unnoticeable, Atalanta’s lips had twitched a bit, forming the faintest of smiles as she remembered his father sitting at the exact same spot.

And now, the one who sat beside her, was the most important person in the world, enjoying the back of her delicate fingers touching his temple. Slowly, fog began to amass over the ocean.

No prying eyes.

No eavesdropping ears.

They were all by themselves for this long overdue event that made her heart flutter.

Sitting down beside him, she gazed out into the ocean as Christos’ eyes fluttered open. The tender touch, shoulder to shoulder, caused him to flinch for a second. He should be used to it, especially with Alter laying on his lap when she was getting headaches. But for some reason, with Archer it was more difficult.

Even though it was the same woman that died in Medea’s arms, she wasn’t the one who fought Jalter at his side. Her time came when Mordred the door of the summoning chamber in, pulling her along.

Both took a deep breath of the refreshing air to push away anything that could distract them.

“Atalanta?”, he began, gazing at the wall of fog protecting them from being seen. “I know it said that we are in a simulation of Greece, but…where are we exactly?”. Atalanta had expected already that Da Vinci would keep quiet about this. Many promised to not reveal the location or her present.

Slowly, she breathed through her pursed lips.

“This…is my home…”.

Of all the places, that was the last he expected to her. A small, sharp gasp escaping him, he focused on her finger pointing down the hill to her right.

At a certain tree, the faint traces of what seemed to be the start of a track could be seen. Wooden poles showed the path to run.

“Yes. We are in Arcadia. That right there…is my race track…where so many lost their lives.”, the words escaped her lips. Nothing was holding her back this time. What last thoughts creeped up in her mind, she shoved back with pure willpower. “Did Alter ever tell you about what happened to us?”. “No.”, he shook his head. Worry and understanding were sparkling bright in his eyes, covering her chest with a gentle warmth. “Couldn’t ask. The few things she told me were when we first met. About Meleager and the pelt.”. “Okay…that is enough.”, Atalanta accepted that the Alter stayed quiet.

But if that was supposed to be for the three of them, then she needed to clear this fog surrounding them.

“As you probably expect, I have something for you for this special day. A token of my trust and…”.

Atalanta’s felt herself unable to say the word. All what she had prepared for, even talking to Emiya before, yet now she found herself unable to say it. Cursing herself, Atalanta fought to at least get out words he could understand.

“…A-and many other things. It is something I prepared specially for you. But first…”.

Feeling her cold glare wandering to his black jeans, he knew what it stared at. Something she hated ever since those beautiful emerald eyes laid eyes on it.

“Do you have that book with you?”.

Pulling it out of his back pocket, was a small pocket book. A compendium about various greek legends with notes sticking out of it.

Upon reading her name, Atalanta felt her chest tighten and her stomach catch fire. So many wrong written legends all gathered into what she herself labeled a cursed book that could belong to Gilles de Rais.

“Christos…you will not need this anymore…”.

He tilted his head in wonder. Atalanta’s eyes glimmered, dampening their natural beauty thanks to all the wrong these words told. “Nearly everything leading up to my end is a lie, so…”, she stuttered to explain.

Atalanta hated how their tales were recorded with so many flaws. But for Drachme, anyone would do anything. Even twist the tale to something people would love to read.

She wasn’t the only victim.

Iskandar was told to be a dwarf when Darius the third was a giant. People would laugh, asking themselves how someone like him could battle, yet bit their tongue once the nearly 2 meter giant stood in front of them.

Mordred’s reasons for her rebellion were shrouded, not even being told of her trying to achieve the love of her father. All she wanted was Artoria’s affection and acceptance as her child, not the throne. But all that was left was the evil knight that betrayed its kingdom.

One of the worst cases, Mae feared how she found Achilles nearly bursting into tears and frantically apologizing to a startled Penthesilea, holding his head to her toned body. He had found out how authors disclosed that he did something outright unspeakable to her corpse. He was nearly about to vomit for once.

And Atalanta…

…they made up so many things.

Raped and turned into a lion by an infuriated god was already dirt thrown on her legend those incredibly fast feet created on the soil of history. But how Christos, his blood frozen, found her once in his room, crying on the bed, was when she read how she had a baby…

…and abandoned it into the woods just like she was.

“Please, Christos.”, she begged, reaching for it. “Please let me throw it away. You don’t need it anymore! There is no reason to keep his accursed book!”. Breathless, choking in her desperation, the master’s wide eyes watched her fingers extend towards it.

“I-I will tell you everything. What truly happened to me. About the Argonauts and Peleus. About Medea. And if you ask the others, they will also openly tell you. But some of these tales hurt…So, please…Let me throw it away…I don’t want to see it again.“.

Her fingers couldn’t touch it.

Not allowing it, he pulled away, startling the huntress.

But as much as it hurt, Atalanta fought to accept that he still needed it. Maybe for someone they still didn’t know. Yet it felt like a blow to the gut.

Long and hard Christos glared at the book.

And…

…in front of Atalanta’s sparking eyes, the book went up in flames.

With what little magecraft he knew, her master just made sure she would never drown in tears again. Not like the time he found her on his bed. It was a horrible night for him and a heavy reminder how scarred Atalanta really was. Her hair was a mess and she protectively curled herself up in a small ball of misery, covered tenderly by a blanket over her. Despite his fear of anyone thinking him to be too close to her, if it meant soothing his beloved Servant, he wiped the few strands away that got in her face.

“If you throw it, there is the chance that it might return.”, he spoke lightheartedly. “It is better to make sure it never has that chance. A past is meant to be buried, right?”. As breezy as his smile was, as wide Atalanta’s lips spread. “Yes! You are right!”.

With the last shackle having been turned into ash, Atalanta took a deep breath.

It was time to let him know about the true life of the huntress of Arcadia.

Atalanta told him everything. How Artemis cared for her in her early years. The two centaurs she killed who tried to take her purity. How she travelled with the Argonauts upon Jason asking her to join, forming a deep-lifelong friendship with Peleus and he asked her to be the godmother of his children. Medea’s firm belief of a man existing for Atalanta somewhere. Meleager’s demise and herself returning to her father, falling for his trickery. Having to race day by day to keep herself from losing what she cherished.

“…I see…”, Christos muttered.

The more she talked, the more tired Atalanta got. Before they realized it, the Archer had nestled against his shoulder. It was odd how fitting it was. Wide and comfy, perfect to rest on. While he himself was uncomfortable at first, the more she spoke, the more his fears disappeared as he supported her. It started to feel natural and he could smell the apple shampoo she used for her wonderful golden mane. “So, the moment you saw one of those apples in his hand, you tackled him, and pushed one of the apples into his mouth as if he was a pig ready to be roasted?”. “Exactly.”, Atalanta’s cold voice made the rain feel downright pleasant. There was no affection for him, despite what many stories told. “He was a pretty boy that tried to win with trickery. I pulled him towards the starting line, broke his neck…and tore his head off as a symbol to those who try to win by trying to play it smart. Either they honor my rules, or die before they take their first step.”.

If he didn’t know her better at this point, Christos probably would have shivered from the sheer imagination of Atalanta ripping someone’s head off. The thought she did that by her own hands was already terrifying.

But when he looked down at her, he found shadows cloaking her eyes. Her soft breaths grew agonizingly long.

“And then…that night…”.

Lightning flashed in the far back. Memories returning, she scooted closer.

“My failure of a father confronted me about killing Hippomenes in front of all those spectators.”, Atalanta explained. It wasn’t guild trembling in her voice. But memories that strangled her. Voices she wished to forget.

_“You…I let you return to me, for what? I told you, that you could choose any man you wish. I returned your title as a princess, and yet you even kill a suitor before he could race you?! I knew you should have died that night in the woods, rotten daughter of mine!”._

_“Where is that murderer?!”._

_“Damn kingslayer! Find her!”._

_“A kinslayer, truly. That was not only our king, but her father. He shows benevolence and she responds by throwing him over the balcony? He should have left her in the woods to die without her bow! Find Atalanta and bring her head! Hunt this beast until it is dead!”._

“H-He attacked me…”, her voice trembled as the past caught up with every growl of the simulated thunder. That horrible loneliness returned and, in her fear, she unconsciously pulled her long, splendid legs in.

“I dodged and…he fell over the railing of the balcony, breaking his neck. His form was sloppy a-and I only needed to sidestep it. It wasn’t my fault. As much as I hated him, I never killed my own father…”.

What was he supposed to do now?

All this time Atalanta had been so strong. She smiled and laughed at the times she spent with Peleus and Medea, rolled her eyes whenever she spoke of Jason and lamented the good times she competed with Heracles.

But now, that strong façade was breaking from the sheer weight.

The first tears started to drench his dress shirt, turning the olive-green darker, as her delicate hands gripped on him so she wouldn’t slip away.

Taking a shaky breath, she continued to the best of her abilities. “A soldier saw me. Those wide eyes of the young soldier I will never forget. He was young, barely the age of the youngster. Just like the days before, I ran. I ran for my life! I couldn’t do anything else!”.

Atalanta Alter he had already seen crying before. Too many things had burdened her and they knew each other much longer.

But seeing the Archer break felt as if someone was suffocating him. Bony fingers, slowly clenching him as others dug deep into his chest to rip out his beating heart, hurting from every single sob.

When Atalanta finally couldn’t endure it anymore, she turned her head down to not have Christos see her tears anymore.

“They pursued me throughout the forest.”, soft whimpers entered his ear. “I don’t know how long they chased me, but they never stopped. I just wanted all of this to end! I wanted to go back to Medea! I thought of Peleus offering me shelter with lady Thetis! I could never meet any of them again! A-And…”.

Unable to speak and answer, the master did the only thing he could at this very moment.

The arm whose shoulder she took to lean on slowly wandered down her shacking back. Once firm on her slim waist, he pulled her closer.

‘Why did I only have to be so curious…?’.

He cursed himself. All this time she spoke, every second of crying and shedding tears, he had started biting his lips to the point they nearly pierced his flesh. It was his own curiosity of greek mythology that got the huntress to face something she never wished to again.

And now, that strong woman seemed so frail and delicate. Life had never bestowed her anything but misery until the very end. It his own fault she felt like this right now.

Very gently, he stroked her side, clashing against that sorrow with his own arrows of tenderness.

And slowly the tears and sobs faded. But Atalanta never removed her head from his shoulder. She still needed her master’s strength for the last mile of this race that was her history.

“I…was exhausted…”.

Though steady, she was tired of the emotional struggle with herself. With what her father and loneliness had done to her.

“I leaned against a tree…watched how lightning gathered…and closed my eyes, wishing to hear Medea’s and Peleus’ voices a last time…It burned for only a second…”.

“You…got struck down by lightning?!”.

As her master found himself frozen by the mere image of this kind woman struck ruthlessly by nature, Atalanta sighed with relief, now that the final part came upon her lips. “I couldn’t run anymore. I was out of breath and my legs were hurting. The tree was tall, so it was natural.”, she whispered weakly, wiping her burning eyes a bit. “I...like to think it was lord Zeus showing pity with me.”. “I wouldn’t call that pity when you have a mother up there, Atalanta.”, he reminded her of the one that saved her. “Think. Do you honestly believe that Artemis was happy seeing you die like this? Burned to ashes? If she was your savior and your mother, she wishes for you to live a long and peaceful life, like every good mother does.”.

The moment he spoke these words, unaware of Atalanta’s silent, grateful smile, he thought of his own words.

So many things made more sense now that he thought about it. He knew Artemis was stalking him for a while, all because she wanted to protect Atalanta. It wasn’t just her being the ditzy romantic all people thought, no.

Artemis had an eye out for anyone unworthy of her daughter. Not after what happened in her past life. She was testing Christos, watching how he behaved around Atalanta and how she reacted.

Her playing this oblivious love-struck woman with eyes for Orion was only a façade to hide care and motherly love.

Wiping the last tears away, Atalanta found a handkerchief held in front of her.

Staring into the distance, slithering lightning and thunder growls faded into nothing.

“I apologize for that pitiful display, Christos.”, she giggled with her last small sob, turning her blush away from him. Reminded of the feeling of her head on his shoulder and his arm around her very slim waist, he felt his cheeks heat up as well. “Forget it. It is fine. You needed to get that off your chest and I am glad you did.”, he croaked, clearing his throat. “Now I am a bit smarter as well.”.

Cradling the box that laid at her side the entire time, Atalanta and Christos leaned back against the tree, enjoying the sound of rain.

And, all of a sudden…

…they began to laugh the moment Christos snorted.

“Ah…we are a strange pair, aren’t we?”.

“Pair?”, Atalanta smiled awkwardly. “We are three. It is a wonder none had asked if you had a harem.”. The moment his eyebrows dropped, keeping the awkward expression, Atalanta choked. “O-Oh…Oh, by the gods…W-who-“.

“Izo…And Cu…Also Pe-“.

“Penthesilea and Achilles are really no surprise, Christos. No need to mention them.”, Atalanta tiredly sighed. “If one tries to push you to me, then the other is meant as well.”.

These two had been trying together with their masters to get through for far too long.

But that meant all of this needed to come to an end…

…and it was time to wrap all of this up.

With a bright blush on her cheeks, Atalanta placed the box Christos’ lap, luring his startled gaze below. A bright green with a golden band.

“Open it…”.

“O-okay…”, he stuttered, carefully undoing Atalanta’s work. It was presented in such a beautiful box, he didn’t want to ruin it.

Atalanta watched with a smile how his eyes widened the moment the lid was opened.

A chocolate covered apple greeted him with two arrows pinned inside of it. One held the symbol of a sun and the other the moon.

Apollo and Artemis. Gods of the bow that Atalanta prayed to whenever she used her noble phantasm.

The huntress’ smile only grew in radiance. “That apple…”, she began as her hand folded over her chest. “…before you ask, is a golden one.”. Even at his sharp gasp that made a sword seem blunt, Atalanta couldn’t help her heart nearly jump out of her chest. Never did his gaze leave the apple. But his ears were fully on her.

“I hope you understand. I know how stubborn you can be, especially with my reputation. Since I know you cannot run very well, you can use it against me in a race if you want. The moment you drop it, I will not continue running anymore…a-and…”.

What was he supposed to say to this?

Everyone who knew her tale was aware what that meant.

The golden apples were what sealed her fate of marriage. It was unlucky and dishonorable.

And now, she offered you a skinned golden apple coated in sweet chocolate to use against her, openly admitting you would win.

Atalanta would be yours.

Everything they all said, all these voices inside his head…

_“That Atalanta smiles so much is not only really refreshing, but also relieving. Jeanne is glad that she found someone like you.”._

…were all concluded by the young Sieg.

A smile began to tug on his lips, silently thanking the young Caster for being there when he needed him most, even if he wasn’t his own Servant. Taking a deep breath, Christos gazed at Atalanta, laying the apple on his lap. “I think throwing it on the ground is too much of a waste.”, he startled his Archer as he searched his pockets for an expensive looking swiss knife.

Taking the handkerchief as a make shift plate between them, he carefully cut into the chocolate covered apple, making sure not to break the sweet surface.

All of, all of her effort, got the results she wanted. A glorious smile watched her master carefully slice the apple into pieces.

Time seemed to pass slowly as the two ate the valentines present together. None wanted this to end.

“You know…”, he wondered, taking another bite out of the piece in his hand. “They taste like red ones. Maybe the flavor is a bit stronger, but…”. “I know what you mean.”, she laughed, chewing on the last piece before swallowing and grabbing another. “At least the chocolate compliments the flavor. To think those things were nearly the end of me. Ridiculous.”.

The sun started to crack through the dark blanket, the past and fears of abandonment, as well as the overcaution of her oath.

Unconsciously reaching for a new piece, they froze when their fingers gently touched the others.

Light shined down on the last, thin slice.

“You take it, Atalanta.”, the master offered with a smile. “I am full for now and if we overeat, Emiya is getting pissed. Heard he wants to cook greek today.”. “Is he?”, she wondered and cautiously she took the last piece into her hand. “Can he even make Tzatziki?”.

“Probably not.”, Christos grinned at the image of the kitchen Servant losing his cool. But he knew he’d just take a cooking book and whatever came out was still perfection. He was the king of the cuisine without a doubt. “Even if, there is Medea and she can make the best I ever tasted.”. “Then she must have gotten a lot better than when she was younger. Maybe that comes with being married.”, she laughed, remembering a few atrocities that came out when the Caster was much younger.

Despite how rough they are, Atalanta’s fingers were delicate and careful.

A bright red covered her cheeks once more, harder than Penthesilea’s waist coat as she glanced from the piece to her master, before her lips slowly approached the sugar coated goodness.

When Christos closed his eyes to rest a bit, thinking of his paperwork, he felt Atalanta tug on his sleeve, huffing for his attention.

How would you have reacted?

When you read about this secluded huntress, telling you her story? That powerful woman, often scowling and focused on her goal? A woman so blindingly fast, able to take over some of the fastest runners?

What would you do…

…when you had found Atalanta’s lips curled around the last thin slice of the golden apple, offering to share with you?

Her face glowing and her eyes calling out to you to come closer?

Just like him, would your heart burst out of your chest? Would you start to fidget and fruitlessly try to look away before getting engrossed once more in the warm sea of leaves that were her eyes?

Approach her slowly?

Let your hand carefully wander behind her head as your eyes closed? Relish the sounds of her gentle breaths come closer…

…and shared the apple like their shadows did underneath the sun, doing something indescribable for the chaste huntress?

When they pulled away and the shade’s disconnected, rain and storm left.

They had nothing to do with the huntress anymore gleefully smiling at her master’s bright blush. Whatever just transpired, was a magical moment she never wanted to forget and neither did he. I you’d ask him, he’d deny, yet those dreams sometimes left him restless at night.

Leaning on her beloved’s shoulder, Atalanta happily nuzzled against him, thought much closer than before. Yet she found it strange that he seemed to be sulking a bit. “What is the matter, Christos? There is nothing to worry about now.”, she wondered. “You can now openly admit to Iskandar that you and me share a life and Achilles is going to leave you alone. Honestly, they are going to fall of their chairs the moment you say it. Sure, Iskandar is going to say something stupid like you conquering me, but-”. “Do you want me to announce it openly?”, he teased her, cutting her off abruptly.

The thought of Christos announcing to all without hesitation that they were together, was a bit much for the huntress’ imagination. “W-well…M-maybe not right now and not with a large audience.”, Atalanta suddenly fidgeted. “Maybe we keep this to ourselves for now…in private in our room. We can tell Medea and lady Artemis first when the time is ripe.”.

“Maybe that is the best course of action. And they are not the problem.”, he grunted softly.

“Is it Emiya? I know he is going to laugh. I can ask Penthesilea to send a few amazons after him.”.

“Nope. What bothers me is…”.

With a sigh he closed his eyes, giving in to the irritated twitch of his lips. If there is anyone who is going to love…

…it is going to be the artist Cyperus and the french amazon.

“It is how right Vera and Mae had been with us having been pretty much married already…I hope they aren’t like Emiya or I will hear that for the rest of my life.”. Nuzzling against his neck, her ear softly brushing over his cheek, Atalanta couldn’t contain the amused giggle at his expense. It tasted sweeter than even the apple before. “Then you will just have to endure this now…”, she faced him with fact.

Yet she thought with one single word.

“…gapi mou…”.

He heard a whisper, but even so close, he couldn’t quite make it out. “What is it, Atalanta?”. “Nothing.”, she denied, simply smiling and taking in his scent.

“I know you said something just now.”.

“It is nothing of urgency, my master.”.

“Why are you calling me ‘master’ now?”.

“That I call you ‘master’ is mere play.”.

The moment they returned to Chaldea, trying not to the get any eyes on them and walk normally, they somehow had the feeling they were being watched, unable to notice that from the canteen, a few curious Servants pocked there head out of the doorframe.

Medea, brightly smiling at her sister, and Achilles sighing softly. “That means I can finally focus on Penthesilea, right auntie?”. “Call me auntie again and you will find yourself ballless the next time you sleep with Penthesilea.”, a harsh warning made him shiver. “I am not as patient as Atalanta with you, koutsouvelo. You never had to worry about Atalanta at all. I am here after all.”.

With a silent smile, Medea noticed how the hands of the pair brushed by another’s.

As unnoticeable as possible, Atalanta’s delicate fingers wandered between the ones of her master.

Finally the Caster could have stopped worrying. Her sister was finally happy with a man at her side.

Only…

…there was still one final task to do.

The chaste huntress had bestowed her gift upon her beloved.

But the calydon huntress is still struggling.

Noticing Medea worry, Achilles knew what was the problem. “If sis here could do it, Berserker will as well.”, he tried to ease her, earning pats on his green hair. “At least you have some redeeming qualities of your father. But Alter has a whole other problem to face.”, Medea shook her head as she wandered down the hall way to her room.

Not only did they know each other the longest…

…she knew how dangerous the pelt could get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep. I would be unfaithful to myself if I would not write anything about Atalanta and myself.
> 
> Out of all characters, Atalanta just clicked to me the first time I saw her and to this day she is my favorite Archer. Considering my stories, including a giant Apocrypha remake, I know, big shocker XD
> 
> But since she came out with the beginning of Fate/Grand Order, much of her dialogue and involvement in the story was pretty much rushed, before the first lostbelt came out. And even then, she just doesn't get a happy end. For that however, her present is pretty clear.
> 
> Most valentines gift by girls are more a sign of friendship or sisterly love. Medea's is a pretty good example. 
> 
> Atalanta's however, is a full love confession coated in chocolate. An apple to use in a race against her, with the warning to be aware of the consquences, as that is what we should be prepared for when she loses. 
> 
> I wanted to give her time to shine and unwind. There is much troubling her. Much she couldn't speak about. Being abandoned as a baby, travelling and becoming friends with Medea and Peleus, who is Achilles' father, to returning hope to her asshole of a father who wanted her to marry just so she could give him a grandchild. And Atalanta was no damn baby maker.
> 
> Now, you probably are all confused about how she died here. Think about Iskandar in Fate/Zero when Waver asked him why he was told to be a dwarf and he laughed it off as the throne having been too big. No wonder. Darius was a giant. Atalanta end is murky and no matter how deep you reach, whatever you pull out is something different. She was married to either this or that guy and then was either turned into a lion or had a secret baby she abandoned in the woods out of shame. Even the god that struck her is different, being either Zeus, Artemis or Aphrodite. So, instead, I came up with something that incorporates one thing, and that is Zeus becoming angry, though here, it was more out of mercy for our poor lioness.
> 
> All you arcadian master's out there, take good care of her. Atalanta truly appreciates you.


	4. A cage destroyed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How lonely her room had been at this point.
> 
> Months upon months they fought together. Barely she had disappeared in Medea's arms, and the moment she opened her eyes, she was summoned to Chaldea. Much she and her master had been through, even facing her own sad past in the form of the twisted dragon witch.
> 
> Never seen apart, Atalanta Alter had followed him no matter where he went. To his office, into his chambers or into a simulation to take his lap whenever she suffered from headaches, ignoring the knowing looks of Medea, Iskandar, Penthesilea, Achilles and many others. 
> 
> But when the time was ripe to fully make her master her own...
> 
> ...why did she feel so scared, craddling the present she fought so hard to make?

It was strange.

Sitting in her own room, devoid of anything.

Blank, like her life had been, the white walls feel like a prison the calydon huntress put herself in. A cage for a beast that couldn’t be controlled.

She couldn’t sense it. The scent she liked so much. That aroma that pulled her out of the darkness.

And the more she thought about it, the more her heart began to race and hurt with an unspeakable pain.

“…what is wrong with me?”.

In her lap, Atalanta’s abyssal black claws held onto a pretty box, containing her heart and soul.

But every time she thought of offering it, a strange sensation made itself wide. An unknown aggression she felt like never before. It wasn’t a desire to battle, but to keep him away from everything else.

Solely to herself.

“I went out of my way for this. I wanted to offer this to you. And now, I am locking myself up in a place I don’t want to be…”, her whispers were returned by the white bars she put around herself. Restricted by invisible chains, she bit her lip until the first drop of blood emerged. “I want to be close, but I am scared of hurting you…Why…why is this happening?”.

“What? You got to be kidding me! Hahahah!”.

Atalanta recognized that obnoxious laugh even from kilometeres away. It was covered in the fire that would devour the entire world. One of a goddess that would make dragons bow to her.

“Hahaha! Ah, that is precious! The ice-bitch-queen actually gave something to her master on valentines!”.

“Be quiet, Jalter, before you loose that tongue of yours. If I remember correctly, you had to make you master’s own numb because you were afraid that it wasn't acceptable. I just had too many calories and decided to shove the rest towards my own. Food shouldn't be wasted.”.

The harsh cold tone answering the dragon witch, a cold queen that would behead you the moment you show weakness as her contractor, lashed out.

Atalanta knew those voices too well.

“I-I did not! I couldn’t care less what Vera thinks about it! She is a monster! She ate my damn face!”.

“And here you accuse me of sharing with Christos while you blush like a young maiden when you gave her another chocolate with more effort put into it. The Servants of the kitchen do not lie.”.

The huntress felt a cold shower go down her spine. Beautiful lips, pursed into an unrecognizable image pictured something she did not want to see.

A blushing king of knights handing chocolate to the person only she herself felt allowed to be close to.

The greek master that stood by her side ever since she returned.

Her body trembled. Claws threatened to dig into the carefully wrapped up present for her dearest. The mere thought of loss and abandonment tore at her side from every angle

…

“You are just as much of a bitch as I remember. It is a wonder how your master still hasn’t kicked you off his team.”.

“You are speaking of a man knowing whom his loyalty belongs to. Do not-“.

With a loud crash, the bickering Avenger and Saber watched a shadow with hair of peerless white storm past them, bearing the eyes of a savage beast, nearly tackling the french aside. “Agh! Merde!”, the french cursed, vile as ever with a sharp glare barely able to follow the storm nearly trample over a young man with messy pale brown hair and innocent red eyes. “What the fuck is wrong with her?! Is she out to-“.

“Hoh…”.

Jalter swallowed hard at the unnerving, icy smile on the lips of the queen. Salter seemed refreshed as the wind stopped playing with their hair. “So, the lioness wants to get out…”.

“Huh?”.

Tilting her head and gritting her teeth, Jalter hissed: “How about you give me a clear answer why I was nearly mowed down by the kitty cat?”. It was strange. Despite having known Salter for so long, being face to face with knowledge staring back into her eyes, always felt like she was thrown into the harshest tundra.

“I have no reason to tell you.”.

Leaving the startled Avenger to herself to fume, Salter knew exactly what just happened, gazing at the busted door of what was the Berserker’s room.

“Go on, Atalanta. It is time to bust yourself out of this cage.”, the queen spoke in the desolate room of huntress, desolate of decoration or effort to make it homely.

“You had his hand reach for you once. Take it for good and leave your prison behind.”.

…

On the other end of Chaldea, a certain french master had just woken up. Full of spiked chocolate made by the amazon queen herself, her beloved Servant together with the Rider she called husband, they completely eradicated it. But now she really needed something to drink.

Thought what was strange was…

…a certain greek master brushing by her with a untypically wide smile on his lips.

“Huh? What?”, Mae muttered, rubbing her eyes. The thought of still being asleep brushed her mind, but not before came out of the kitchen with a bucket of warm water and mop. “Vera, what is wrong with Christos?”. “Oh man. You just woke up didn’t you, Maemae?”, the only female master in Chaldea laughed at the bit of chocolate still on the french’s soft lips she pointed at.

“Yeah, yeah. I slept too long. My sleep schedule is fucked up. I worked long on the reports with Gilgamesh.”.

“Ouch. I hope he wasn’t too hard on you.”, Vera worried. The king of Babylon, if not sleeping, was known to be very thorough with his work, unlike his Archer-self. An unenthusiastic laugh cursed the Caster. “Well, at least you woke up with some sweet chocolate.”, Vera laughed with a hand on the short french’s shoulders. “I wonder how you two actually ate all of it.”. “Yeah, yeah.”, Mae yawned, raising her arms for a good stretch. “Still, Christos smile is looking strange. I don’t know.”.

“Oh, that is just a guy in love.”.

“Wait, what?”.

Suddenly, wide awake eyes stared where the man in question had disappeared to. “No. No way! Did he-“. “Not him.”, Vera shook her head. “Atalanta, Archer, did. She called him into a simulation of Arcadia, told him her story and was the one who offered the kiss.”. She pointed at her lips curled into a devious smile. “Medea told me about this after Atalanta confessed to her that her and Christos took that step. She even pulled off the pokey move with a slice of a chocolate-covered golden apple.”.

There were words trying to be formed, yet Mae’s mind was still too busy just imagining the huntress of Arcadia, letting her stare with her chin on the ground.

But then, when she wanted to ask for detail, she noticed the mop and bucket. “Are you cleaning your room?”, the innocent look couldn’t even portray the horror awaiting in the nervously sweating Vera’s room.

“Izo got drunk and puked in his sleep.”.

“…Eugh…”.

“…Yeah…”.

As Mae comforted Vera about the grueling battle ahead of her, the oblivious Christos walked to his room.

No matter where he went or who stared at his unusually bright smile, knowing what must have transpired…

…his mind was only on his Archer.

The soft sensation of her lips, tasting like the piece of golden apple she tediously made for him. How hesitant both of them were, yet once it happened, it felt timeless.

Atalanta had stopped racing. From her past, from herself and everything she feared, waiting for him to catch up and run at her side, hand in hand.

Brushing by his office, he remembered the staple of paperwork that still needed to be done. The incident they had a few days ago with the cursed book of Murasaki was quite an ordeal for the masters and Servants of Chaldea.

For one, he now feared Vera pushing Jalter to him to learn german. Undoubtedly the french would visit him at some point and that talk will be the death of him.

But before that, he still had to go to his own room and put some of the chocolate he got from other Servants into the fridge. It was way too much what they got, but thankfully, his own Servants had made normal amounts, not like what he saw Penthesilea do for Achilles and Mae.

Life-sized chocolate variants of her spiked balls, ready to crush any foe and deliver rich nutrients for training.

How exactly Penthesilea pulled of healthy chocolate, Christos really wanted to ask someday.

Before he opened the door to his own quarters, he took a deep breath.

It was one side of his beloved huntress that had confessed to him. The proud, beautiful Archer with a heard of gold for children.

Yet the entire day, her other side was nowhere to be found.

Hair as white as the pale moon, shimmering in the night when another beast was crushed beneath her heel. A beautiful black dress, covered in blood as were the sharp, silver gauntlets.

Whenever she thought, her mind reverted to that of a beast, thinking only of killing the enemy as quickly as possible. Servants would sometimes be more scared of her than any other Berserker, when Heracles himself is currently the undisputed king of carnage once let loose.

But whenever the came closer the calydon huntress standing knee deep in bodies…

…she smiled with when through that thick stench of death and flesh, the aroma of her master’s perfume cracked through like the sun behind the dark clouds. One of a kind, that angelic smile of the demon had captured his heart many times over.

Always she’d close her eyes, allowing him to tenderly wipe the blood away from her cheek with a handkerchief.

Christos was a reminder to her and others that even with her savage way of fighting, the woman that grasped Medea’s and his hand still existed underneath the pelt of the beast.

When the door slid open…

“Atalanta, I am back.”.

…he was startled to be met with silence.

No sound of delicate slumber. Neither a drowsy smile as the lioness awoke from Morpheus grasp to greet him from his bed.

For once, Christos found himself alone in his room. ‘Huh. Curious.’, he wondered, taking a good look as he stepped inside. But once his eyes landed on the nearby dinner table, his adam apple bobbed.

He liked chocolate as much as the next person, but some people really overdid it with the valentines presents. Izo definitely deserved an entire cake. It was his birthday after all. Sweat rolled down his temple as he ruffled his short, dark hair. ‘I can forget getting my body into shape with all that chocolate…’, Christos lamented silently. His low sigh spoke of the days he’d have to spend trying to get through all of this. ‘I hope Vera and Mae are having a better time.’.

They didn’t.

It was odd to not have his lioness close by. Gently laying the chocolate on the dinner table, his eyes wandered to the nightstand next to his bed. Nostalgia washed over him as he gazed at what was his very beginning.

Two pictures framed and starting right at the bed he sat down on.

A singularity dubbed the Accel Order. A horrible twist to the fourth holy grail war that took place in Fuyuki. Together with Lord El-Melloi II and his first Servants, Emiya and Iskandar, they fought hard against the tides of war. Lancelot’s insanity fogging his mind. The tides of the corrupted greater grail as its goddess, Justeaze, watched them struggle. Yet they came out alive with Irisivel returning at their side. The moment they returned, Iskandar slung his mighty arm around his master’s shoulder, also pulling the red Archer and newly found Caster along. Da Vinci eagerly wanted to take that picture.

The other was certainly the moment he cherished the most. Barely coming out of the devilish fires of France that threatened to devour the entire world, they came out alive thanks to the lioness protecting them all. The very first time Tauropolus Skia Thermokrasia was unleashed, Atalanta was a falling star that descended to protect those she cared about. The day after, Medea hustled the group together once more. Herself, Iskandar, Emiya, Christos and Atalanta. The Rider and Archer laughed as the Caster pushed against the Berserker, pushing her into her new master fighting a hefty blush.

That was the first time Atalanta gave a smile that many said was so charming that a normal man would fall unconscious.

Staring at every single face smiling back at him, be it the huntress, the princess, the kitchen dweller or the king of conquerors, he couldn’t the feeling of nostalgia washing over him.

“Say…what is going to happen once all of this is over?”.

The dreaded question came from the young Ritsuka, clinging to Mashu. Despite having thought earlier than the three of the other masters, she was also the most vulnerable at her tender age. The thought of losing all her friends she made had created nightmares every single night.

“Are you three…going to leave?”.

The thought had never crossed him before. Once all of this was over, the grand order fulfilled and humanity saved, the heroic spirits would return to the throne of heroes without a master to connect to. Unless proficient and able to sustain a Servant with enough mana to make a holy grail useless, a Servant cannot exist for long in this world. When Ritsuka had faced them with her nightmare, Vera and Mae tried their best to wipe her tears away. But she feared losing Artoria and the others.

That day, Christos took a deep breath.

“…Hm. Nope. I don’t think I will.”.

The smile he had on lips startled them when he nonchalantly took out another folder.

“I have grown to used to have my idiots around me. Iskandar pulling me to the consoles to play with him, Cu and Achilles. Medea showing me magecraft. Just to note, she is a phenomenal teacher. I would even miss the constant teases of that red clad asshole of an Archer. After all…he protected me much too often. Also…”.

Conveniently he had walked to his desk, hiding not only a blush, but a deeply worried frown.

“I would have to leave Atalanta all alone again. She’d return to throne with them and forget what we all have been through.”.

The thought of her forgetting how to smile was nightmare that always had gnawed on his consciousness. Having her and Medea separated again, he wouldn’t allow.

“If my fate is to sit here on top of a snowy mountain and forever write and correct reports, then I will gladly do so if I can stay with those precious to me. Besides, I have grown used to your handwriting. I cannot work your everyday office job anymore thanks to you, Ritsuka. I even forgot whatever I knew about customs. We could try to become teachers for aspiring masters, but do not tell that to Chiron.”.

“We have gone through hell and back, didn’t we?”, Christos muttered as the movie ended the moment he laid the picture down on the nightstand. His walk through memory lane was over and greeted him with the white of Chaldea’s walls. “If both Archer and Berserker are going to live with me in my room…”, he wondered with the slightest amusement.

“I should get a bit of furniture that reminds them of the best part of their life. Maybe a small bottle ship. Medea can help surely.”.

And then he shook his head, noticing he was talking to himself.

The moment his hand went on his knees, ready to stand up, rapid footsteps approached his door. He recognized the sound of familiar high heels and a small chuckle escaped with an expectant gaze.

“3…2…1…”.

Immediately the door jumped open.

At first his blood seemed to freeze solid, immediately thawing and shooting straight to his head.

“MASTER!!!”.

The silver haired lioness in question rushed inside with an aggressive expression that looked ready for war. But what made Christos feel so horribly conflicted was…

…her outfit.

“A-Atalanta?!”, he wheezed. At first his eyes lodged on the giant boar head on her right shoulder, bearing a sharp, thin pupil gazing at nothing in particular. It looked horrifying. Her silver gloves were gone for black ones covered in dark fur.

But the real problem was…

‘I have no idea where to look!’.

The huntress could be mistaken for an amazon with how much skin she showed. The white and black furred outfit only covered the bare minimum. Yet for some reason, the shoes where wore went all the way up to her upper thigh.

“A-Atalanta, what is that outfit? What is going on?!“, he stuttered, trying his best to keep his eyes up on her face. “I-Is everything-“.

“Good, you are here!”, he immediately found himself pressured when Atalanta suddenly closed the distance, shoving the light purple box she carefully cradled before right in front of his nose. “Here! Take this!”, she spoke as swift as lightning and with the intensity of a beast.

For once, despite all those shenanigans he had to endure, like Atalanta taking his lap as a pillow during her headache periods, that was one of the few times where he had no idea what to expect.

The calydon huntress was waiting patiently for his shaky fingers to finally take the box out of her hand. From seeing her chest rise and sink very hectically, Christos knew she must have run all the way from one end of Chaldea to another. She was agitated but he didn’t know why. Carefully laying it on his lap, he marveled a bit at the eloquent package. A bright white with a purple ribbon on it.

Slowly unwrapping the ribbon under her attentive gaze, Christos opened what he felt somehow was Pandora’s box.

And what poked out were two carefully crafted chocolate board with pink symbols, greeting his wide eyes.

“Oh! That is-“. “It is chocolate!”, Atalanta’s intense tone sharply cut him off, not noticing how she made him shudder. “You are supposed to give this to people today, right?! Well, there! DONE!”.

“Uhh…”.

“I do not need to do anything else today, right?! That is all that was required of me!”.

“Y-Yes, Atalanta.”, Christos tried slowly to calm her down. “That is what valentines is about. But are you-“.

“Right then!”.

‘Why am I even saying anything?’, he pondered the huntress’ sudden mood.

And froze the moment she swiftly turned towards the door, puffing her chest.

“That is all! GOODBYE!!!”.

“Huh?!No, no, no! W-W-Wait! ATALANTA, STO-“.

His whole being cringed at the crash. In her mad dash, the huntress nearly broke down the door with the force of a rampaging bull, know unable to close properly. ‘Damnit…and already had that problem recently with Mordred…’, he sighed. He wouldn’t want to know the costs of repairing something like this, if Chaldea didn’t have their own staff for repairs. Taking a good look at the door, the moment he approached, the doors seemed to fix itself, hinging back in place. He marveled a bit at the piece of technology, unable to hear what nearly sounded like tires going into a hard brake.

The moment he turned and the door seemed to close, the black furred whirlwind returned, crashing right into her master. Thankfully he heard her rush in in the last second, so he at least prepared and cushioned her.

“I misspoke!”, she quickly corrected herself and made him wonder how she hasn’t bitten her tongue yet. In the arms that supported her before they would have both fallen into a rather embarrassing position, fidgeting nervously and with flattened ears, she tried to explain.

“Err, that is, I was trying to hide my embarrassment! That is not chocolate given as an obligation nor just out of courtesy. It is, well, you know.”, Atalanta tried her hardest. Doubt in herself was clear in her averted eyes unable to face his own stupor. “Consider it a token of my gratitude and love and friendship and everything else rolled into one!”.

If Christos didn’t have his tender moment with Archer before, the Berserker explanation would have rattled him a bit more. Yet that nervous smile he still couldn’t hide. “I…am aware.”, he squeezed out of his throat having gotten as dry as in the fires of Jalter that nearly devoured them once. Atalanta drowned in shock and awe. “S-so you knew, did you? I see. Impressive as always, Master.”.

“W-well…we know each other by know, don’t we?”.

“Y-Yes…”.

“…”.

“Hm…”.

Normally when silence befell the two of them, it was cherished time. Atalanta would smile and he could adore it all day long. There was comfort in it that probably only married people or couples knew. But right at this moment, they both felt out of place.

His hands still supported Atalanta, despite no in danger of falling and her own hands were still on his waist.

However in that silence, Christos, noticing her discomfort, tilted his head. “Is everything okay?”, his tender worry wrapped around her. Yet even in his arms, she felt alone. Ruefully, she sighed at her own inabilities. Eyes on the chocolate boars waiting on the bed, Atalanta muttered: “Still, I am not as good with my hands as my Archer self, so they kept coming out poorly no matter how many times I tried…In the end, I resorted to begging Tamamo for help.”.

Tamamo no Mae.

A japanese Servant, known to be a fox spirit who died on the fields of Nasu. Even though heralded as a demon as the cause for her lord’s sickness and exposed be Semei no Abe, the woman’s only desire was to be human and a happy wife.

While Christos himself was not her master, he got into contact after Nero got into a fight and he heart something about a moon cell holy grail war, where one apparently pushed another of the stairs.

But once he actually talked to Tamamo alone, he was talking to a young woman who wished nothing but a quiet life with her beloved, wherever he or she may be. Not only that, but she was a phenomenal cook, so Atalanta asking her for help didn’t seem out of place.

‘Tamamo…’, he silently thanked the blue Caster. ‘I hope that you do not feel too lonely today.’.

“Now that I am a Berserker, rather than an Archer, I have been unable to control myself.”, Atalanta returned Christos’ attention to her. The hands on his waist shook a bit. Even though she looked him in the eye, she didn’t feel the same warmth as usual radiating from him. At least, she didn’t seem to, even when he himself didn’t feel any different. “It feels as though this passion burning within my heart will ocnsume me from the inside out.”, she stuttered, the trembling in her voice getting worse with each word spoken. “W-Whenever I see your face now, I-I become very aggressive, for some reason!”.

One of her black gloved hands wandered to his face. For just a second, one of her claws seemed to naturally grow sharper underneath the light of the white room the more intense she became.

“More specifically, I want to bite you!”.

Christos’ pressed his lips as tightly as possible to keep the sharp gasp from breaking out. With every ounce of willpower he had, he tried to push the image Atalanta gave him away. But the harsh blush on her soft, pale cheek, gave the wrong impression already, or whatever she actually intended with it. With a sigh and utter defeat, the huntress lowered her head. Her eyes seemed to sparkle from wetness. “Even I do not know what I am saying at this point…”, she whispered, trembling on the spot. “Everything I say is…just…”.

“Easy, Atalanta.”.

At first it was a joke Vera told him that one time she found Atalanta napping on his lap, because of a harsh headache. Being a Berserker sometimes caused periods of intense pain she described as someone taking one of her arrows and pushing them inside her head.

When he was gently stroking her hair, he should try to scratch her behind her ears. Funny enough…

…it worked.

Patting her head, his thumb carefully reached the spot Atalanta enjoyed the most. As she murmured quietly, Christos gave the same soft smile he answered her with when she disappeared in Medea’s arms. “Everything is okay, Atalanta. I am thankful, really.”, he gave his gratitude, watching her eyes dry again. Though the blush persisted, not letting the huntress go. “O-okay. I will accept the kind gesture…”, she gave up, letting her hands be taken in his. Quietly he led her to the bed, sitting on other side of the box of chocolate.

“There is nothing to worry about. Take a few deep breaths, okay?”.

“U…uhum…”.

He wanted to take his hands away, but Atalanta clutched onto them, not allowing her master to leave. It seemed almost frantic as the Berserker huntress’ chest rose and sank very slowly. From what he heard of Archer, Christos knew that Atalanta as a whole carried a massive burden.

The chains both Archer and Berserker wore threatened to make them fall into the deepest abyss with no wings to save them.

Not fighting her desire, thumbs tenderly ran over the back of her hands.

“…Alright, I think I feel better now…”, she sighed.

The sharpness in her eyes has returned and Christos could see the same woman that protected him from Jalter once more. A hard gaze at the boar on her shoulder, that seemed almost a bit nervous, she moaned: “I guess there is something about Valentine’s that awakens my bestial instincts a bit.”.

A smile formed on her master’s lips. “A bit? Really?”.

“Yes. A bit…Stop chuckling, chaso!”.

“Sorry. I just couldn’t help it.”.

“Seriously…”, she puffed her cheeks, finally letting go of his hands to cross her arms. That pouty expression was rare and he loved to see it. “I do get the feeling I said a lot of nonsense earlier, but please just forget all that.”. “As long as I can finally finish my own sentences.”, he still laughed a little bit at her expense. “Though a few things I probably won’t forget.”.

“Geez…”, she exhaled, turning her head away to not let him see her relieved smile. But something bothered her. “Still, I wonder how I was able to calm down so quickly. Hmm…What could it be…”.

That was when her nose caught something.

“Hm?”.

Gazing at the chocolate boars, Christos was unaware of Atalanta twitching nose, leading him right to his neck.

“Hmm?”.

One he could feel the faintest traces of her breath sending every single hair on his body straight up, he froze when Atalanta had a look one could describe in having found the holy grail. “Aha!”, she nearly shouted. “So that’s what it was!”.

“What was wha-H-Hey!”.

Leaning as much forward as she could, Atalanta nuzzled against his shoulder. With deep satisfaction, she took in his scent, not caring that his body got stiff from her having her this close. Even closer than the time at the beach. “I finally realized what it was that helped me. It was your scent.”, she whispered into his ear. That smile he loved so much spread wide on her soft, pale lips nearly brushing over his skin.

“Mm, yes. You smell good.”.

Christos was pretty sure his face could be mistaken for Iskandar’s cape. But the moment he remembered that his perfume always seemed to calm her down from a battle frenzy, he relaxed a bit. But he wondered: “So, the perfume works to snap you out from a battle as well as when the pelt is making you crazy?”.

“It isn’t your perfume.”, she whispered fondly. “You are not carrying it today. You never do when we do not have to fight to conserve it, idiot.”.

And with that, the blush returned with a vengeance. Tiredly rubbing his eyes, trying to keep his wits together, Christos muttered: “Still, don’t you think you are a bit close?”.

With Archer he might have been this close already. They embraced and kissed, nuzzled together underneath the tree and slept in the grass underneath the virtual sun. With the Alter, he hadn’t done such things yet. Even if she took his lap, having breath so close was testing a lot of him.

And that is when Atalanta shifted. Dreadful, sharp and firm, lime green eyes glared right into his. “I assert that maintaining this proximity is fully within my rights as a Servant.”, she lectured him, pointing at the bed. “Do not forget that if I wouldn’t sleep with you every night, you’d still suffer from Kiyohime and a few others hiding under your bed. You’d wake up exhausted and unable to concentrate.”.

Mouth agape, he realized just how right she was.

The moment Atalanta decided she’s take his room as her quarters, the more troublesome Servants left him alone.

“And besides…”.

The harsh look she gave him softened into a playful wink that made his heart jump. “Do you not think that this selfish little request of mind is more cute than anything?”, the lioness played with him, nuzzling against his shoulder once, arms keeping him from moving.

“You do think so, right? Right?”.

It would be the most fruitless lie of the century in front of the huntress that could sniff his nervousness. Dropping his head, he took a deep breath and straightened himself. “Alright. You win, Atalanta. A few more minutes, okay?”. “I knew you’d see it may way, Christos.”, she giggled, making herself comfortable.

They didn’t even know how much time passed, but the silence was as comforting as before.

But while she took in his scent all this time and relished on it…

…there was someone else mixed with it.

And what it was, she knew. That is what she wished to be again, to be at his side and trusted.

“…I finally understand.”.

“Hm?”.

Wondering, he felt how she removed herself from his shoulder and slowly got up. Her movements were filled with the elegance of the queen of beasts once more. Her eyes were sparkling with love and affection.

Softly, her lips lifted into a smile. The same lips that gave Christos the allowance to be taken by him, curled around a golden apple.

Even if they were paler than usual, they were just as beautiful. Yet, it looked so sad.

“Yours is the scent of goodness itself. The scent of one who ever strives to live withing the light. As long as you give off this scent, there will always be a Servant standing by your side.”, Atalanta’s heart spoke, protected by her hand folding over her chest. It all sounded made his blood freeze.

Why did it sound like a goodbye?

“There will always be one there to protect you, and to treat you with tender loving care. Even…”.

Her eyes seemed to water ever so slightly. It was barely noticable, yet his own had been trained to noticed whenever she hid something.

“Even if you cannot trust me…I hope you will trust what I say…”.

“Atalanta…”, he longed to speak her name.

Why did Atalanta sound as if she would never see him again?

Slow, quiet and agonizing, fighting her heart, Atalanta kept up her playful expression. “Well, see you later, Master. I hope from the bottom of my heart that you have a long, and very happy life.”, the calydon huntress waved goodbye, stepping towards the door and ignoring the huntress’ confusingly sad tone.

But the moment she reached for the door, the sounds of her heels seemed to disappear completely.

‘Atalanta…was always so horribly lonely…’

Medea’s voice returned. Full of grief and heartache, she made him listen to her once more.

‘I was with her a lot. Every single day I loved to be with her. But now that I think about it, remembering the times we shared…Her wish was not wrong, but no one believed in it. Or in her. I told her one night, that there is a man out there somewhere for her. One who would not only say it was beautiful, but wholeheartedly support her with ideas. I…didn’t expect her to die alone without even me at her side…’

“You know…”.

Her hand froze in midair.

Lion ears flopped with a sad laugh unknown from her master. “Christos?”. “You say some really depressing stuff sometimes, Atalanta.”, he answered her confusion at first with amusement.

But the moment her shadow cloaked eyes turned to him…

…nothing prepared her for the cold glare she received.

Nothing did she fear.

Dragons.

Demonic beasts.

Deformed and lunatic Servants.

But seeing her master furious for once was terrifying. All these times, how softly he spoke to her, shyly turned his head away or blushed, she never expected him that he also bore a side that could put her in her place.

“Why are you speaking of yourself as if I abandon you?”.

“I-I…”.

The moment his hand rose, she didn’t know why, but the felt the need to clench her eyes. It wouldn’t be the first time she was hit, but the thought of someone she felt dearly for, stupid as it may, brushed over her mind. It was a terrifying thought.

Yet his hand only rose to gently grasp her wrist and lock the door.

No matter who wanted something, they would have to waist.

“M-Master…”.

“You.”, Christos spoke softly, pulling her and into his. “It is not Iskandar, not Emiya. Neither is it Mordred or Salter. The one I trust in the most…”.

His throat felt as dry as when he spoke to Archer before. He felt sweat start to break out.

“…it is you.”.

That was what broke the dam holding her tears from flooding everything she knew.

His gentle expression twisted in her eyes as Atalanta bit her lip.

A horrible croaking escaped him from soft sobs and whimpers as the huntress began to tremble. “Atalanta?!”, a slow, horrified stutter reached her folded ears. Not able to say anymore, in search for comfort and warmth, pressed herself tightly against him. The tears she shed on his neck, warm and full of relief, trailing down his skin felt like the gentle rain from before.

“I thought…you would be scared…”.

Gently, and arm wrapped around her waist while another held her head. Her usually sharp eyes were barely able to be helped open. “I didn’t know what was happening to me. I thought the pelt was making me run rampant and…”, Atalanta’s struggle broke her voice.

“I-I smelled Archer!”.

Finally the master understood what bothered her so much.

Not only did seeing all these pairs exchanging presents cause the pelt to increase her instincts until she couldn’t bear it, but the slight scent of Archer, even if it was her own, caused her turmoil and fear to return.

That fear of abandonment, making the Berserker think she wouldn’t be trusted anymore.

“You are being stupid, Atalanta.”, he whispered into her folded ear, desperate to make her understand.

Now Christos knew why Achilles begged him to give a relationship with her a chance.

Those tears…

They were threatening to make him crumble under the waves of her sadness, especially when you seem to be the cause.

“Only because Archer is here, I would not trust you anymore?! That is idiotic and you know that!”, her master held her tightly, swaying softly and combing her hair as she cried. “You. I trusted you when I send you off against Jalter. If I had no faith in you, I would have ordered Iskandar to trample her underneath his army until nothing remained. But no. I believed in you. And I still do to this day.”.

Feeling Atalanta’s hands press against his chest, he finally gifted the sight of her eyes again, slowly cracking open underneath the harsh light of the room.

“Nothing has changed, Atalanta. Yes, she gave me a gift and I will admit that we are together. But she is you and you are her. It is not the same as with Jeanne and Jalter.”, he explained with a warm smile that embraced her heart and soul.

“You do not need to fear being left alone. Before she was here, there was you. And just like before, I-“.

The shadow on the wall couldn’t speak.

Words of affection about to shower her were left in his throat, as the soft lips of the calydon huntress pressed against his.

Unspoken, dreams of such a moment invaded his nights at times, a reason that he was unable to share a bed with her.

And unknown to him, the Berserker had desired this outcome for the longest time. The way she nuzzled against him, laid on his lap, even lay his head on hers when he slept without him noticing where here ways of conveying her feelings.

But with knowledge that while her Archer self beat her to it her master’s feelings for her didn’t change, the fear of being alone came to abrupt halt.

The hand she reached out to from the bars of her own cage grasped tightly onto her own…

…and the bars broke as the shadows’ lips separated.

No more words were spoken as their bodies did the rest, leaning their foreheads against the other’s.

When Atalanta’s tears were gone and her smile shined once more, Christos felt his own strength to speak return. “Say…”, he offered, gazing at the two boars. “They have been staring for a while now. Want to eat them together? I ate a bit too much chocolate today.”. Atalanta agreed without thinking twice, whispering: “Yes…I’d love too.”.

Hours passed, up until it was nearly midnight. They spoke so much of everything they wanted to do now. And Atalanta…

…she disclosed what exactly happened in the great holy grail war.

About Jack cursing her. Her own sorrow and how Jeanne sent them off, up to the battle upon the hanging gardens. She explained how this was the form she took when she used the pelt for the first time.

But she didn’t speak of her death. The last she desired was to give her beloved a nightmare where she was killed. Not after having shared the valentines chocolate and exchanged tender pecks.

When the room was dark and they waited for Morpheus to tug them in, something unusual happened.

Unlike all these nights before…

…the master actually laid in bed with his Berserker, using his chest as a pillow. Thankfully, the boar head could disappear at will when she had herself under control. But the outfit couldn’t return to normal.

Red from the unusual position and closeness, they silently stared into the darkness. But the feeling to separate wasn’t to be found.

“Hey…Atalanta…?”.

“Hm? Yes, Christos?”.

Slowly his eyes had gotten used to the darkness, he gazed around his bare room. “If you wish to decorate somehow, you and Archer are free to do so.”, he whispered. Smiling over both ends, the lioness nuzzled closer to his neck, kissing his skin with warm breaths. “So…Me and Archer can stay here?”, she asked, waiting for his approval.

“Yes. Now…and forever…”.

“Forever…Then…What do you plan to do after this is all over?”.

She didn’t like to think about it. Not after having spent such a wonderful time together. But the knowledge haunted her.

“I am a Berserker. You cannot hope to return home and be able to sustain both me and her. It is impossible…”.

“I know. That is why I am staying in Chaldea.”.

Softly, grateful tears sparkled, more beautiful than any star in the night sky as he combed her hair.

“I will leave none of you alone. Never again. Once I have the chance…I promise that I will perform a Palingenesis on you. And even if not, then I am staying up here in Chaldea with all of you.”.

“…I am glad…Then…you should get used to see lady Artemis a lot…”.

That he feared, but suppressed it by pure willpower. The moment he felt one of her graceful legs lay on top of his, one question persisted.

“Say…are you stuck in this form now?”.

A bright red flush covered her cheek. Even in the dark she couldn't hide it from her lover. “N-No. I will return to normal tomorrow. I don’t like this outfit and it came out on a whim. I feel like I am wearing a swimsuit…”, she answered meekly, fidgeting underneath the blanket. A small laugh escaped his lips, thankfull that it was only temporary. “Thank god.”.

It perplexed her, though only a little bit. “So…you are not happy to see me in this form? You know…as a man I thought...”, she asked, curious of his relief.

“Not when you have to show yourself like this in front of the kids. You look like an amazon. And I like that dress of yours.”.

For that, he received a playful punch to his head, followed by a kiss to his temple, bringing out a chuckle.

“We should try to sleep now. You have work to do tomorrow, right?”.

“…Yes…”, he bid her goodnight, pressing his head against hers with a smile. And with that, they closed their eyes...

“Kali nichta, Atalanta…”.

“Kali nichta, Christos…”.

...and drifted off into beautiful, blissful dreams.

Atalanta saw herself gazing over the ocean of Arcadia. The sun was just rising over the horizon and in front of the hill, she could see the Argo having docked. Many of her friends walked down the ramp, searching for the huntress.

She excited to see her dear friends again. Especially Peleus and Medea. From afar, she could see the king walking together with many, children. 7 to be exact with one with spiky green hair sprinting forward. He also held the hand of girl around his age with white hair and an adorable face framed by white bangs held by golden rings.

Gazing behind her, she smiled as her master gazed himself over, still uncomfortable in greek robes. After fighting for so long and living in the past now, he had to get used to how things were. But with tender touch of his woman holding his hand, worry was suffocated, allowing for her happiness to shine.

She always wondered...

...how would her life have been, if she met her master when she was still alive?

…

In front of Atalanta Alter’s room, Christos stared up at Heracles, easily carrying her bed under his arm. What was unusual of the Berserker was a knowing smile, but the master discarded it.

It was only a matter of time until they would all know.

“So, can you please get that to my room? Atalanta is waiting there.”.

With a nod, the giant walked away, leaving the sighing master behind. Taking a good look at the barren room, he frowned silently. ‘No wonder she stuck with me the entire time. There is nothing.’.

“Christos?”.

Turning his head, he saw his beloved Archer, carrying a small package in her arms with her belongings. “Hm? Ti ine?”. “Tipota. Only a small question.”, she brushed off that something was wrong, showing her belongings. “I have a few things for decoration. I hope you don’t mind a small wooden statue, right?”. Smiling at the impressive work of the huntress, he shook his head. “I leave decorating up to the two of you. Knock yourself out.”.

Earning a swift kiss on his cheek away from prying eyes the huntress rushed off, leaving the blushing master alone, touching his cheek. ‘I really need to get used to it.’, he thought…

…unaware of the shadow behind him.

Pale, dark clothed arms, playfully wrapped around his waist as he pondered deep in thought, allowing the dangerous predator to close in on his ear.

“Well…looks like my contractor was busy last night soothing a cat.”.

In mere seconds, the cold feeling of shock rushing down his spine faded for annoyance as the dark Saber stepped away with an icy smile spreading on her lips. By this time, he was used to the, as Jalter affectionately calls her, ice-bitch-queen’s approach. She was always out for amusement. “You…seriously eavesdropped on us?”. “I need my master to be in top shape once we have to return to war. Having a crying kitty with you only dulls your blade.”, she giggled at his expense…

…and pointed at the door to Jalter and Vera grinning.

Christos froze on spot as the Avenger waved. “Well, well. Letting Berserker carry a bed to your room and Archer running around with her belongings. My, my. Had I known you had the balls to go through with this.”. “Just shut the fuck up, Jalter.”, the greek master cursed, yet it was brushed off by her with a shrug and overjoyed laughter at his new situation.

The dreadful shiver returned.

“I heard that you were greek AND german. So, I will need your help with something.”.

“Oh, please no…”, he pleaded, rubbing his eyes as Saber leaned against his back playfully. Thanks to her being so short and his shoulders rather wide, he was ideal to rest against. When Christos, eyes opened ask his friend, why he told Jalter about his mixed heritage, he noticed the giant bags underneath her eyes. “Jesus, what happened to you? Did you draw too long?”, he asked, earning scoffs by both Alters barely holding themselves together. Wiping the tear away, Jalter pointed towards her sighing master.

“I-Izo fucking barfed in his sleep, haha! It took her the entire night to wipe it away and the room still smells like shit!”.

Silently he gave a sympathetic gaze to tired eyes crying for sleep.

“Coffee?”.

“Coffee…”.

…

They didn’t get to drink coffee.

Moment before, they would meet Parvati who, loving as she is, created an entire bull made out of massive chocolate.

Even with four masters and many Servants, it was a futile battle.

Ritsuka and Mashu leaned against each other to not fall, fighting what seemed to have been the thousandths piece of the bull.

Down with a stomachache, Achilles laid on a defeated Mae’s lap who caressed his hair, herself leaning against a stubborn Penthesilea refusing to give up, struggling to even take another bite. Cu was sitting behind his french master, having died while sitting upright.

Izo was passed out again with Vera laying half dead on his chest, muttering about too much chocolate.

Not caring who saw him right now, Christos sat on the ground and held his Berserker cat close to his chest, fighting not to barf as his Archer dizzily muttered why they went through his, embracing him from the back.

Chanting something underneath his breath, Emiya fought against the bull with every bit of his will, taking another bite out of the horn.

“Medusa…”, Christos asked the Rider crawling to him. The free shoulder looked inviting and she didn’t care right now what others might think. “Why are we doing this?”. “I…urp…”, she struggled to speak, grabbing another piece. “…will tell you another time. Just do your…best…”.

…

Nightingale found them all passed out on the floor and groaning after a horrified Parvati called her, regretting the bull was made of massive chocolate.

…

Happy Valentines.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And the last of the 4 stories I uploaded on Deviantart, made its way here.
> 
> Now a bit of an explanation here. If I hadn't known about the four star ticket, I probably would still not have played FGO. I wouldn't have gotten Iskandar to appear, Salter wouldn't be teasing me etc. 
> 
> It was HER who got me into this hell, and I do not regret it.
> 
> I thought long and hard if I should pick Archer or Berserker. In the end, I went with Berserker and had quite a poetic fight at the end of France where she blasted Jalter to oblivion with her noble phantasm. During the Valentines event I also max ascended her and am just waiting to grail her.
> 
> If Archer's present was already more than obvious about the feelings for her master, then I do not know how to describe Berserker. She bursts inside your room, not biting her tongue while she says the present is a show of affection, trust, love and everything else rolled into one. Not only that, but when she later approaches you to inhale your scent, my friend Vera told me as she laughed: "That right there is a woman in love.". My theory about her actually being in love with us is even further strengthened in her interlude.
> 
> It was a really sweet moment but the moment she left with the words that if we cannot trust her that we should at least trust her words, were, as we said later, bittersweet.
> 
> Atalanta already has been through hell more than enough. We can allow her at least a bit of happiness. So be good to your affectionate kitty XD
> 
> Servants and Masters can not only be partners after all. Fate stay night and extra showed that.
> 
> That was the last of the Valentines stories. I hope you a great valentines day, a good read and hope your rolls will be blessed. Now I can focus on Apocrypha again XD


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